Chapters (59)
- Cover
- About the Author
- Praise
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- January
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- February
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- March
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- April
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- May
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- June
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- July
- Forty-One
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgments
- Author’s Note
- Ladies of the House - Reader’s Guide
- Questions For Discussion
- Excerpt
“He does seem very nice,” I said, trying to be discreet. “And very pretty. But...” This last word I stretched, hoping she might finish my thought for me. For as worldly as my sister was, sometimes she forgot how things worked in DC.
“You don’t want me to go?”
“Well, I can’t go with him.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t be seen hanging with the son of one of Miles’s biggest adversaries.” In my quest to be inconspicuous these past weeks, I’d dodged reporters and photographers, avoided predatory PR agents, deleted my weight in hate mail and blocked mean tweets. And now the laughing, pernicious universe had sent me a Darley. Fine, perfect, I’d shake him, too.
“But who was the creepiest guy in that bar?” Wallis said. “It sure wasn’t Blake. I for one am not going to be one of those people who categorically dismisses the other side.”
“Like me.” I folded my arms.
“I didn’t say that, Dodo. But you have to know that when you heap scorn on someone for long enough, the more likely they are to double down on their beliefs. Who knows? Minds can change.”
“He has to be in his midthirties, right? I’d venture to guess his beliefs have long since crystalized.”
“So no one has ever had an epiphany over the age of twenty-nine?”
I sighed. I knew she would steamroll me, and, really, it was only one drink. “He does have a cute accent. But if he starts talking to you about pheasant hunting or naming your kids after Confederate generals, then run.”
She clasped my frozen hand. “I can take care of myself, Dodo.”
I prayed that this bar was indeed quiet and they wouldn’t be seen. “Try not to let anyone record you, or take a photo of you.” She gave me a look. “For me,” I pressed. “And you better text me after.”
“Text you?” Wallis grinned. “I can knock on your door if it isn’t too late.”
“That’s right.” I cheered a bit that she was close again, after years of being overseas. There was safety in that.
Blake meandered back, asked solicitously what we’d decided. “I have an early morning tomorrow,” I begged off, “but Wallis...”
“I’m coming,” she said with the authority and confidence of someone entirely sure of what she was doing. I watched them stroll down the block and disappear around the corner. Then I zipped my coat and took myself home.
Back at my apartment, I watched bad television about women who were cruel to each other. Another dessert was needed—gummy worms straight from the bag. I fell asleep with the lights on, expecting to hear Wallis at the door.
The next morning I woke up and fumbled for my phone, only to find a single text from my sister: he’s lovely, she’d written at half past midnight. And possibly perfect.