Winter White (13 page)

Mira winced. That was a low blow even for Savannah. Izzie looked like she wanted to pour Savannah’s sweet tea all over her.

“Hey, Savannah?” Izzie pointed to her right ear. “I think you still have a little red paint right there.”

Savannah reddened. Since Izzie wasn’t biting, she turned on Mira. “Nice dress.” She cocked her head. “Didn’t I see this on clearance last week at Prepsters?”

“No,” Mira squeaked. “I’ve had this for a while.” Why did she let Savannah get to her? She should say something tart like Izzie, but before she could think of a comeback, a gorgeous guy who could have doubled for Bradley Cooper approached them. He looked overdressed in a tuxedo. That’s when Mira noticed the purple envelopes.

“Hello,” he said, and passed out the cards that had each of their names on it. “I suggest you read these discreetly. Good luck.”

Izzie and Mira looked at each other blankly, and then
Savannah walked off. She obviously knew what they all did. The envelope had information about their next hazing. Mira felt her lungs constrict. The hazers expected them to complete a dare at the welcome tea? Were they insane? She opened the envelope and pulled out the note.

Mirabelle Monroe:

“We promise to embrace, honor, and accept our womanhood.” Such beautiful words for a cotillion motto, don’t you think? That’s why we want you to make sure everyone at this luncheon—both debs of old and new—hears the cotillion pledge before it’s time to head home. We’ll be watching to see how you do. Remember: Discretion is key!

XO,

Your Cotillion Captain

“I don’t know where they come up with these ideas,” Izzie said after reading the note. “My dare of the day is that I have to force everyone who has hot tea to add ice to it.” She chuckled. “That should be interesting. What does yours say?”

Mira felt clammy and weak. The envelope dropped from her hands, and Izzie swooped in to rescue it. “I have to recite the Cotillion Club pledge to everyone I speak to,” she said in
a monotone voice. “I’m going to sound ridiculous! I’ve been practicing so hard to get ready for today, and now all my conversation starters are going to be ruined because I have to say the cotillion motto.” Izzie started to laugh. “It’s not funny!”

“It’s a little funny,” Izzie said. “At least now we don’t have to suffer through an afternoon of prim and proper boringness. We get to do something fun.” She bounced on her toes excitedly. “I can feel the adrenaline pumping through my body already.”

Well, at least she didn’t have to worry about Izzie ditching cotillion today. The hazing ritual seemed to lighten her mood.

Callista walked over. “Someone said we’re supposed to move into the ballroom.” Her makeup and hair seemed much more cotillion-tea-worthy after a quick touchup. She flashed them a big smile. “Ready for your proper entrance into society, ladies?”

“I was,” Mira said under her breath.
Now I’m not so sure.
Too bad she didn’t have a choice. Mira headed toward the ballroom and prepared to face the music.

The Sea Crest ballroom was so decked out, Izzie thought they had walked into someone’s wedding reception by mistake. There were cascading flower arrangements full of hydrangeas on every table, antique china, tiered plates with tea sandwiches, lilac satin tablecloths and napkins, and Waldorf salads being brought out by waiters in tuxes. The room filled up quickly, and everyone seemed to know one another. Not only was the ballroom breathtakingly beautiful and expensive-looking, so was every woman and girl in it. Instead of looking ridiculous in their prim Chanel skirt suits and Talbots threads, they all fit in perfectly, just like Mira. It was Izzie who was out of her element, and she was sure it showed. This was why she didn’t want to do cotillion. It brought up too many emotions that she still hadn’t gotten a handle on
yet.
I don’t belong here
, a nagging voice in the back of her head reminded her. Izzie tried to push it away, but she could still hear it. She had felt so confident a few minutes before, but now she felt a little ill.

She needed Brayden. He would see her face and make a joke about high society, and instantly she’d be at ease. They hadn’t talked about her doing cotillion till Brayden figured out she was one of the Gagas at the game. Even then, all he wanted to discuss was her glittery hair. Now she wished she had brought up the escort topic. If he knew how crucial it was for him to be there, he would have come. She checked her phone one last time, but there was still no text. She was on her own.

Izzie sighed. How was she going to keep a straight face when she approached EC’s elite with a pair of ice tongs?

“I guess it is time to face the music,” Izzie said as they picked up their table cards. Mira nodded. They both looked like they were going to a funeral. “I’m going to get ice.”

“Ice?” Callista’s expression was bewildered. “Why do you need ice?”

“Callista?” Mira put a hand on the publicist’s shoulder. “Have I ever told you about the cotillion code of honor? Let me recite it for you.” She cleared her throat. “We promise to respect, honor, and accept our womanhood by…” Izzie made her exit.

Ever since Dylan told her she was involved with initiation, Izzie felt like she was being watched. The idea that she
could be forced to do something crazy at a moment’s notice was both terrifying and exhilarating. Today, she had reason to be worried. Former debs were everywhere, observing members of her cotillion class taking part in their latest hazing. It was all Izzie could think about to not burst out laughing at the sight of some of them. But part of the rules of the initiation, as she had read at length at Mira’s begging, was to never let on what you were doing, no matter how bizarre your behavior seemed.

Nicole hurried by her, trailing a woman wearing a
Miss Cotillion 1984
sash. “Miss Bronson? Did you know the first Emerald Cove cotillion class was started in 1948, three years after World War II ended and the town’s Junior League decided to…”

Izzie kept walking. Her note had said a purple ice bucket would be waiting for her in the kitchen. On her way, she passed Lea, who surprised her mother by spraying her neck with a putrid-scented perfume while they were in the middle of talking.

“Lea! I have on perfume,” her mother said tightly. “Chanel Number Five.”

“Funny, I don’t smell Chanel,” Lea said nervously. She caught the woman next to her mom off guard by spraying her next. The woman sneezed. “Bless you! This new fragrance by, uh, Sassy, emphasizes the eternal beauty that comes with a winter hibernation….”

Izzie hurried through the kitchen doors before Lea could spritz her, too. A busboy was waiting. He held out a purple bucket and led her to an ice machine.
That was easy
, she thought when she exited the kitchen a few minutes later. Lauren was standing nearby, turning a deep shade of purple.

“Excuse me!” EC’s mayor said when Lauren blotted her mouth with a napkin.

“You’re excused, but the speck of mayo by your mouth isn’t.” Lauren tried to sound breezy as she followed the mayor’s bobbing head with her napkin. “Got it!”

Izzie took advantage of the mayor’s distraction and quickly dropped ice cubes in her teacup and those of two other women standing with her. When the women saw what Izzie was doing, they were flabbergasted. Even Lauren stopped blotting mouths for a moment.

“That tea looks too hot,” Izzie said, trying to sound as conversational as Lauren just did. “I thought you could use some ice.” She wasn’t sure she could pull off breezy. The three women scurried away.

“Ice?” Lauren snapped. “How’d you get off so easy?”

“People like me. Haven’t you heard?” Izzie dropped a cube in Lauren’s china teacup while Lauren blotted Izzie’s mouth. Then they glared at each other and walked away. Izzie spotted Mira and Nicole and headed in their direction.

Mira was holding her hand to her heart. “We promise to
embrace, honor, and accept our womanhood by…” As she spoke, Izzie stuck a piece of ice in her cup.

“Izzie, did you know that cotillion classes in the 1950s were held all year on Saturday mornings and consisted of both etiquette classes and dance lessons?” Nicole asked. She was wearing a deep green cocktail dress that made her look like an elegant Jolly Green Giant. “Escorts were few after the war, as most boys went off to work.” She stared at Izzie miserably. “How long do we have to keep this up? I’m running out of facts I remember!”

“Hopefully we’ll be told to take our seats soon,” Mira said, her eyes darting around the room. Izzie watched as her face froze. “Oh, hello, Mrs. Townsend!”

Mrs. Townsend?
Izzie’s palms began to sweat. Brayden’s mom was coming their way! Even though she was tiny, Mrs. Townsend looked intimidating in a short, chic bob, tailored suit, and pearls. Izzie didn’t see a resemblance between her and Brayden, but Dylan looked just like her. That must have driven Dylan nuts.

“Hello, ladies,” Mrs. Townsend said quietly.

Izzie felt her body stiffen. Mrs. Townsend’s mouth barely moved when she talked. It was held in a very small but decidedly permanent half smile, half frown.

“Are you enjoying our welcoming luncheon so far?” Mrs. Townsend asked.

“Yes, Mrs. Townsend. What a lovely affair,” Nicole said as if on autopilot.

“I particularly love the foreign tea bar,” Mira added. “It’s so nice to experience teas from around the globe.”

Izzie was going to gag. Was Mrs. Townsend really buying this? Nicole and Mira sounded ridiculous! This was not the president. Why were they trying to impress her?

“Yes, well, you know how important we think it is for you girls to learn about different cultures,” Mrs. Townsend agreed.

Tasting teas from foreign lands taught them about foreign culture? She has to be kidding!
A microscopic sound escaped Izzie’s lips that slightly resembled a snort. Mrs. Townsend caught it, but Mira was even quicker. She held out her hand.

“Mrs. Townsend, I wanted to introduce myself. I’m Mirabelle Monroe, Bill and Maureen’s daughter. We met at Paige Calbra’s book exchange last fall.”

Mrs. Townsend extended a slender hand that dripped in diamond jewelry. Thankfully, she had been distracted. “It’s lovely to see you, dear. How is your mother?”

Mira smiled. “Fine. She sends her regards, of course, and she told me to tell you that whatever you need in way of monetary contributions for upcoming dances, just let her know. She hated to miss today, but it is so important for her to support our father on his upcoming political run. Have you met Isabelle yet?” Mira asked, barely taking a breath.

Mira amazed Izzie sometimes. The sweet Southern belle
thing came so naturally to her, even when she was facing someone as intimidating as Abigail Townsend.

Mrs. Townsend turned to Izzie with interest. “No, I haven’t had the pleasure.” She held out her hand. It was ice-cold. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Isabelle. I’ve heard quite a lot about you.” Whether that included good things (anything Brayden might have said) or bad (Savannah’s and the Ingrams’ whispers), Mrs. Townsend didn’t say.

“Thank you. And I you,” she said, causing the woman’s half smile to turn down slightly. Izzie realized her gaffe, but it was too late to take it back.

Brayden’s mom watched her closely. “I’m impressed that you’ve chosen to take on an endeavor as ambitious as cotillion having had no training prior to this year.” Mrs. Townsend took a sip from the delicate teacup in her hand. “There is so much to memorize and so many behaviors to learn. I hope you don’t find it too overwhelming.”

Izzie tried to shake the impression that Mrs. Townsend was being condescending. “I’m a very fast learner,” she said, but her words didn’t have the same warm impression on Brayden’s mom the way Mira’s did. Mrs. Townsend glanced at her ice bucket.

Was she really expected to perform her task on the cotillion director? It was practically social suicide. But if she didn’t do her job, her cotillion captain might notice.

“A few waiters felt the water was too hot for tea,” Izzie
started to explain, and before she could freak out, she took her tongs and picked up an ice cube. “Ice?”

“No, thank you,” Mrs. Townsend said, but Izzie followed her cup with the tongs.

“Mrs. Townsend,” Mira said hurriedly, “I know you’ve heard it a thousand times, but I would be so honored to recite our cotillion code of honor for you.”

“Really?” Mrs. Townsend sounded surprised, but it was hard to tell because her expression was permanently frozen.

As Mira started to say the words Izzie had only memorized the night before, she moved in closer with her tongs. Mrs. Townsend had nowhere to run.

“Let me cool that down for you,” Izzie said. Before Mrs. Townsend could protest, she dropped the ice into the cup and sent hot tea sloshing over the sides. Mrs. Townsend gasped as the tea hit her cream suit jacket. Izzie knew it was official: She had botched her first meeting with her potential boyfriend’s mother. “I’m so sorry. I…”

“Here,” Lauren said, appearing out of nowhere with napkins. “Let me help.” She dunked the napkin in Izzie’s ice bucket and grabbed Mrs. Townsend’s lapel before she could stop her. Izzie tried to ignore the shocked expression on the woman’s face.