I met Bee’s eyes. “You know what? After we grab some food, why don’t we go back to the store and get those shoes? The more I think about it, the more I think they would be perfect with my dress.”

Bee grinned. “I think that sounds like an excellent idea.”

I watched Mary Beth watch Ryan, longing all over her face. And I remembered that while Ryan might not have seemed guilty, he had been leaning. Exactly the way he used to lean against my locker door back in ninth grade. No, there was no way I was letting this happen. Operation Get My You-Know-What Together was starting now.

So I smiled at Bee, hugged my boyfriend, and said, “Me, too.”

Chapter 19

THAT MONDAY, I found myself back at Magnolia House. Saylor’s eyes had widened a little when I’d walked through the door, but she hadn’t said anything, other than, “Good afternoon, Harper. I trust you’ll be ready to take over the prayer again?”

I had, and it had gone well. Unfortunately, the rest of the practice was going less smoothly.

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, Miss Riley!” Saylor snapped yet again.

As Mary Beth stammered out apologies, I rubbed my ankle and tried not to grimace.

Cotillion practice had only started half an hour ago, and this was Mary Beth’s third fall. The first one had been before we’d even put on our heels, and the second one had nearly taken out the potted fern by the bay window, but this third one had been on me.

As usual.

Normally, I stuck up for Mary Beth when she stumbled, but after the stuff at the mall with Ryan, I was feeling less than charitable.

I was also feeling slightly unsettled. David was currently slumped in one of the tiny velvet chairs in the sitting room, his legs out and crossed at the ankle. Even though I couldn’t see his face behind the Kurt Vonnegut paperback he was holding, I had a feeling his expression was somewhere between boredom and disdain. It was the first time I’d been this close to him since that night at Saylor’s, and even though I was doing my best to ignore it, it was almost like I could feel this thread stretching between us.

“Ladies,” Saylor said, clapping her hands. “I realize you’re all very busy and preoccupied, but Cotillion is one of the most important nights of your life. It’s when you present to the world both the kind of woman you are and the kind of woman you would like to be.”

“I am the kind of woman who would like to be done with this shit,” Mary Beth muttered. She’d taken off her heels and they dangled from her fingers, bumping my shoulder blades. I rolled my back irritably, hoping she’d move them away. And stop talking. That also would’ve been nice.