Monica leaves my mama and me alone together. I spot the fire alarm only a few feet away, and I consider pulling it.
“Now, Evelyn Grace, can you please try, for one moment, to not treat me like some sort of almighty tormenter in front of my caterer?”
“My caterer! She’s my caterer today! I’m just trying to figure out what the heck you’re doing here.” I’m as close as cat's breath to purposely spilling my coffee all over my mama’s pink linen dress.
She sticks her nose in the air a little higher. “If you must know, Monica and I were together yesterday, discussing the menu for an upcoming Powder Society meeting, and she mentioned that she was meeting with a client today by the name of Jones and wondered if I was related to an Evie.” Oh, yeah…Monica’s got to go. “I told her you were my daughter, and she mentioned your fundraiser. Imagine my embarrassment when I had to pretend like I knew what she was talking about! My own daughter not inviting me to a fundraiser she is hosting!” She’s shaking her head, and honestly, that pity card she’s trying to fly in front of my face is looking pretty flimsy these days.
“Mama, you have made it perfectly clear that you do not support my decision to work for Southern Service Paws. So, excuse me if I didn’t think it would interest you to be invited.”
“We are the Joneses, Evelyn Grace! We go to every fundraiser in town. Imagine how it would look if word got out that I wasn’t even invited to my own daughter’s event?”
And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the mother that raised me. She is putting up a big fight, not because she’s hurt that I didn’t want her at the fundraiser, but because she’s afraid of what people would think. This is so classic Melony Jones. It’s how she’s acted every single day of my life.
Maybe I should move to a new town. Somewhere far away where the Jones name means nothing.
But I relent because I don’t have the time to go eighteen rounds with her. “Fine, Mama. Consider this your and Daddy’s official invitation. It’s Satur—”
Mama holds up her hand and then starts rifling through her purse. “Don’t bother. I already have all the details on this laser-printed invitation I took off of Deborah’s fridge.” She levels me with a frosty scowl. “Because Deborah and her family received one.”
I knew she would mention something about the printing. Mama is the queen of event planning. She would rather saw off her arm to pay for the finest engraved linen invitations than have to settle for mere laser printing.
I gesture toward the invite. “So, apparently you didn’t have to do too much acting when Monica told you about the event since you had already stolen that invitation from one of your friends. Remind me, do they teach theft in cotillion? It’s been so long I don’t remember.”
Mama’s eyes narrow dangerously. “Now that’s enough sass from you, young lady. Like it or not, your daddy and I will be at the benefit.” She tucks her stolen invite back into her Coach purse.
She turns away and starts swinging her hips as she walks toward the door, and without looking back, she gets one final punch in. “By the way, I already talked with Monica, and the drumsticks you originally ordered will never work for a black-tie event. I had her change the menu to salmon and chicken cutlets. If you want people to give like millionaires, don’t expect them to eat with their fingers like cavemen.”
I’m looking around for something I can throw at this woman, but whether because of the good Lord’s mercy or my own bad luck, there’s nothing nearby.
She pauses with her hand on the door. “Oh, and I expect you to send a proper invitation to Tyler and his parents.”
“Sure. I’ll get right on that as soon as pigs fly.”
Mama swivels her lazy frown back at me. “I raised you to have more class than that. This is proof you’ve been spending too much time with that Joanna woman. Act like a southern lady, dear. Not a backwoods bumpkin.”
I watch her disappear through the door and hear her chuckle with Monica on the other side of it. I wonder if this is how the rest of my life is going to be. Will I ever be outside of my mama’s reach in this town? Is there anyone who works within the state of South Carolina who hasn’t worked for Melony Jones in some fashion?
Southern Service Paws is usually my safe haven, but now it feels like Mama has wiggled her way in the back door somehow.
I despise the idea of accepting my parents’ money or using their name in any way, but I do know that if word spreads around town that they are attending the benefit, all the other elitists will come too. No one wants to be the couple that didn’t attend the same event as Melony and Harold Jones. And likely, if they see my mama offering up a check, the money will pour in like manna from heaven. Now that I think about it, it was selfish of me not to invite them in the first place.
For the sake of the company, I can lay down my pride long enough to add my parents’ names to the guest list. But under no circumstances will I be adding Tyler Murray’s name. I’m not that selfless.
I pick up my phone and see that Joanna has texted me again. Just seeing her name on the screen helps my shoulders relax and my breathing to normalize. She has given me a place in this world that I never expected to have; the least I can do is help the company she loves thrive.
JO: After we find you a dress, we need to find you a date.
EVIE: I have one. I need to buy Charlie a tux, though.
JO: I was thinking more along the lines of that sexy dad that gave you a ride home last night.
EVIE: You’ve never even seen him.
JO: I don’t have to. When a man has a timber to his voice like that man’s, he has no choice but to be sexy. Bring him!
EVIE: No. He doesn’t like me. Besides, shouldn’t you be discouraging any fraternization between me and our clients?
JO: We’re not a PR team for a presidential candidate. Fraternize all night if you