Lorna shoots me a look, fingers stalling mid-fold of the napkin in her lap. I pretend not to notice.
The woman sitting beside Madison voices her input. It has to be her mother because no other human would be burdened with having that matching copper color of hair and vile conceited personality.
She gives her agreement, mentioning something about how hard it is to find a good stylist and I zone out.
I may not be partaking in the conversation, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s going on around me.
Abram and Madison’s father have been chatting most of the dinner, the same as the women.
The entire thing has been a bore. In the few times I attended them in the past, they’d been the same, but at least during those, I had Finn to keep me entertained.
He managed to get out of it for a basketball reason. Lucky ass.
I slump back in my seat, downing the last part of my drink to conceal my smirk. Soon he won’t be the only one with an excuse to not show up to these.
I’m not the only one who hasn’t been enjoying myself.
Madison’s mother had said something to her. Plastering on the same polite smile she does every time she answers. The look pulls from her face as soon as her mother turns back.
The grin as fake as the enjoyment of the room. Everyone here is a liar.
Lorna and Abram haven’t spoken a word directly to each other the entire evening. The cracks in their marriage forming into a canyon so wide you’d have to be blind to overlook it.
It’s in the subtle ways they shift away from the other. Not something you’d notice if you aren’t looking. Their bodies angled. Appearing like they’re more interested in the conversation than they actually are. And they might be, but I don’t buy it.
Most nights, Lorna doesn’t come down from her room for dinner. Tonight a rare occasion because of our guests. I still have no idea why they’re here.
Usually, these are held on Abram’s account for work, but tonight it’s different. It’s almost like he’d been as surprised by our guests as I’d been.
He’s polite, of course, but I can’t put my finger on it, something seems off. More than the usual fuckery that is my life, at least.
I can tell Madison’s father is a proud man. Not that his wife or daughter isn’t, but his ego is different, more prideful.
I’ve learned that Madison’s family had made their fortune in banking. Her father the head of one of the largest branches in the country. Old money is the term he liked to use most often.
For the last thirty minutes, Abram has been trying to change the subject, but the man seems oblivious.
“Abram, did I hear you and Silas are looking to invest more overseas? I assume I should draw up an account.”
“We have been, yes,” Abram agrees, not giving him a straight answer.
“I can have the accounts pulled by Monday.”
“Silas and I are still in discussion on our plans moving forward.”
Basically, Abram is putting it out there that the Montgomerys aren’t their only option.
“Yes, we are all very fortunate, are we not?” Mr. Montgomery answers, clearing his throat. Shooting him a fake grin anyway, even though he’s clearly not happy with the uncertainty.
I cross my eyes, delirious. That’s the second most used term out of his mouth after old money.
Abram doesn’t elaborate further, instead passively sipping at his wine. Nothing more than necessary. A true businessman, never oversharing.
The lack of clarity wiped away from Mr. Montgomery with the chew of his steak.
“Speaking of, did I hear Silas’s son will be shadowing him at Hardin?” Asking between another mouthful of bloodied rareness.
Now I’m the one who’s trying to hold back my surprise. My skin pales at the same time my hands start to clam up.