Winter White (28 page)

“Please don’t get upset,” Mira’s mom begged Izzie. She was disheveled, too. Her blond hair looked as if it hadn’t been combed, and even though she was wearing her tennis whites, Mira had a feeling she had never left the house. “The story isn’t true!”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” Izzie hurried upstairs. Halfway up, she changed her mind and whirled around, holding the banister. “I got ambushed by the Ingrams tonight! They knew the story about the mix-up at the lab before I did.” Her lower lip quivered. “They said I wasn’t really your daughter, and you knew.”

“Mix-up at the lab? What are you talking about?” Mira was perplexed. “Do you mean the story about the other love child?” Now everyone looked confused. “No? What are you talking about, then?” Everyone looked at Dad.

“Did you say the Ingrams?” he asked Izzie. She groaned and headed upstairs again. “Isabelle!” Realizing his mistake, he ran up the stairs after her. “Neither story is true. It’s all
vicious lies.” Mira realized Izzie was visibly shaking as she listened to him repeat himself over and over. “You
are
my daughter. There is no other child. There’s just you.” The two stared at each other as Izzie continued to breathe in and out heavily. “You are my daughter,” he whispered, trying to drill the truth into her.

“I am,” she said more convincingly, and then she sank onto the stairs and shut her eyes like the whole thing was too much for her to handle.

Mira’s mom looked at the others. “Connor, why don’t you go watch
Phineas and Ferb
. I’ll read you books in a bit.”

“Even though it’s late?” Connor asked hopefully.

“Even though it’s late.” She held her smile till he was around the corner, and then her face fell. “The papers are running a story about the lab that ran Isabelle’s paternity test,” she explained to Hayden and Mira. “They claim that we falsified the results.”

“What?” Mira couldn’t hide her surprise.

“The story is bogus, obviously,” her mom said. “We’ve spoken to the lab, and they’ve given a statement testifying to the true results.” She rubbed Izzie’s back while she stared sadly at Mira. “Someone is trying to destroy us. I just wish I knew why.”

“I’m sorry,” their dad said, sounding defeated. “What happens in this family should stay in the family. You guys didn’t sign up for this fight. Mira’s painting shouldn’t be front-page news.”

Mira’s head shot up. “My
what
?”

Callista glanced at Mira’s dad. “Your self-portrait. Mira, I’m so sorry, but the
North Carolina Post
somehow got a hold of it. They’re running it on the front page tomorrow.”

“How?” Mira cried. Her dad and mom didn’t say anything, but it was obvious they had seen the painting, too. “It was in my closet. How could anyone get their hands on it?”

“We don’t know,” Callista admitted. “That’s what we wanted to ask you about.Who else knew about your painting?”

“Just you, Hayden, and Kellen,” Mira said.

“Kellen?” Callista thought for a moment. “The boy who was here yesterday?”

“Yes, he’s my date for cotillion,” Mira said. “Why?”

“Nothing,” Callista said hastily. “If he’s your date, then you trust him, I’m sure.”

“Does something concern you?” Mira’s mom asked, and Callista side-eyed Mira.

“It’s just…” She hesitated. “If we’re the only ones who saw the painting, and you know Hayden and I would have no reason to take it, then the only other person who could have would be Kellen. I watched you hand him the painting to put in the closet.”

“Kellen’s a good guy,” Hayden said. “He wouldn’t do that to Mira.”

“How much do you actually know about him?” Callista asked darkly. She took off her glasses as if they were hurting
her eyes. “I know you like him, Mira, but would he have any reason to do this?”

“No,” Mira said right away.

Callista tried again, her voice softer this time. “Could he have needed the money for anything? I know you go to an expensive school. Is his family well off?”

“He’s on scholarship,” Mira said, and glanced briefly at Hayden, “but that doesn’t mean he’d—”

“The
Post
paid big money for your painting,” Callista interrupted, and looked at the others. “The holidays are coming. If he needed quick money, there’d be no easier place to get it than by selling a story—or a painting—to the papers.”

Mira shook her head. “He wouldn’t do that.” But she felt confused as she tried to piece the story together.
Then who did?
a voice in her head asked.
He’s the only other person who knew where my painting was, and he did say money was tight at home.
She felt the tears coming and couldn’t stop them. Her lip quivered. “I’m so sorry, Dad.”

“It’s not your fault,” he said, even though he clearly sounded frustrated. “I can’t believe what we’ve let happen to us.” He shook his head. “When did we start hiding things from each other?”

“Like the community center?” Izzie asked, and he looked at her. “I saw you there a few weeks ago with the director. You looked bad.” Their dad shifted awkwardly. “You never told me you were going. Why were you there?”

“I can’t explain right now,” their dad said, and looked away. “I’m sorry.”

“You seem to say that a lot,” Izzie said bitterly. “You’re really good at saying ‘I’m sorry,’ but you never follow through. Is that because you’re just telling more lies?”

“Isabelle!” Mira’s mom sounded surprised. “Don’t talk to your father like that.”

“I have a right to know.” Her voice was rising. “Are you trying to save yourself by siding with the Ingrams on their plan for the community center?” she asked their dad.

He didn’t seem to hear what Izzie said. “Did you just say the Ingrams knew about the story with the lab results? How could they if it hasn’t run yet?”

“Who cares about the Ingrams?” Izzie cried. “What I care about is the truth. Why were you there?” Their dad was quiet. “Fine!” Izzie snapped. “It doesn’t matter. Everyone already knows what a joke I am. I just can’t believe I fell for the joke, too. Well, not anymore. I shouldn’t be doing cotillion and pretending to be someone I’m not.”

“Cotillion!” Callista tried to change the subject. “Now that would be a super place to smooth things over.”

“Not now, Callista,” Mira’s mom warned, but Callista wasn’t listening.

“You can forget about cotillion,” Izzie told Callista, her anger deflating. “I don’t belong there.” She stared at their dad. “And I don’t belong here, either, if you can’t be honest with me.”

“Isabelle, please try to understand.” His voice was strained. “If you would just give me a few days till this new feeding frenzy dies out, I can tell you why I was at the community center, but right now there is too much else going on to worry about Harborside!” Izzie was taken aback by his tone. “I need us to weather this new storm and keep up appearances for a few days, and then maybe if we can go to cotillion together, this will all blow over,” he said, lowering his voice. “You have to trust me.”

Mira stared at her father as if she didn’t even know him. “Trust you?” she asked. “Like we did with this campaign? Dad, ever since you decided to run for U.S. Senate,
our
lives have been turned upside down. We haven’t even made it past the primaries, and every other day, there is a story in the papers about our family or someone is talking about us at school. When are you going to give it up, already, and put us first?” His face looked pained.

“Who cares how we look to the rest of Emerald Cove?” Izzie agreed. “We’re miserable! We’re barely talking to each other. Who are we trying to kid by showing up at cotillion? Half the room is going to be talking behind our backs, anyway.”

“She’s right,” Mira said, the depressing reality dawning on her. “Want to know what’s even sadder?” Her dad looked at her. “That you want us to go after everything that has happened, just to save your stupid campaign. When you took us dress shopping, I thought maybe you were doing this for us.”
Her eyes welled with tears. “But you were just doing this for yourself. I’m not going, either.” She hurried down the hall and flung open the sliding glass doors to the backyard. She had done enough talking for one day.

Mira heard someone run out behind her. It was Izzie. They stared at each other wordlessly.

When the back gate opened, Mira whirled around, ready to tell off her parents or the first photographer who got in her face. She had so much anger that she didn’t know what to do with it. But it wasn’t the press. It was Kellen.

“Hey,” he said, pulling off the parka hood that was obstructing his face. He smiled. “I almost didn’t get in, but then I saw Hayden, and he said to head around back. It’s a mob scene out there. Are you okay?”

He didn’t seem to notice her tear-stained face in the dimming light or how angry she must have looked. But she was angry. How could he betray her like that? She wished she could hit him, but that wasn’t her style.

Kellen put his arms around her, not noticing how she steeled herself against him. “I called and called when I saw the story on the news, but your cell kept going to voice mail. I got here as fast as I could.” His face was full of worry, which made her almost laugh. He was a good liar.

Izzie’s cell phone rang, and Mira was surprised to hear her pick up. “Hello,” she said in a dead voice, and walked to the other side of the patio to talk.

“Is it true?” Kellen asked.

“Is what true?” Mira eased herself out of his arms. It was funny to hear Kellen use the word
true
, considering what he had done.

Kellen glanced at Izzie. “Is Izzie not actually your sister?” he whispered.

“I have nothing to say to you, Brayden,” Mira heard Izzie say with a hint of emotion slipping into her voice. “I was wrong about you and me.”

“You want the truth?” Mira said calmly. “Okay. The truth is, Izzie
is
my sister. The papers made the story up, and my parents have the sealed lab results to prove it.” Mira was surprised that Kellen looked relieved, but she kept going. “But truth is a funny thing, don’t you think? Because if we’re talking about the truth, then maybe there is something you want to tell me, too.”

“I don’t belong in your world,” she heard Izzie say to Brayden. Mira looked at her face, so strong despite how hard it had to be for her to say those words. “I can’t pretend to be someone I’m not. Table settings, cotillion dresses, waltzes… it’s not me. You let your family run your world. I’ll never let my new family dictate mine.”

“Mira?” Kellen tried to get her attention. “I asked you why you keep talking about the truth.”

Mira heard Izzie arguing on the phone, but she blocked it out and forced herself to do the uncomfortable: Confront
Kellen. “I’m bringing it up because you haven’t been truthful with me. What happened to my painting? Did you sell it?”

“Sell it?” Kellen sounded flustered. “You told me to hide it in your closet. Remember?”

“I remember,” she said calmly. “I also remember telling you what was going on with my dad. How much Bill Monroe’s daughter hates him is for me to know, not the
Post
. My painting is going to be on the front page tomorrow,” she said bitterly. “How could you do that to me? I thought you liked me.”

“I did, until you just accused me of selling you out,” Kellen said. The words stung, but she tried not to let on. Instead, she lashed back.

“I know you said money was tight, but if you needed a loan that badly, you could have asked me,” Mira told him. “You didn’t have to make a quick buck selling my painting to a tabloid newspaper.”

Kellen’s face crumbled. “Is that what you really think of me?” His voice was eerily calm. “I didn’t sell your painting, Mira. I’m not a thief. If it’s out there, then maybe you should ask yourself who would want to hurt you like that. It’s not me. I don’t need your money. I don’t need anybody’s money,” he said angrily. “But if you really knew me, you’d know that.” Kellen started to walk away.

Despite willing herself not to, hot tears plopped down her face. “Fine. Go.”

When Kellen shut the gate behind him, she turned into a sniveling, driveling mess.

“Don’t call me again, Brayden,” she heard Izzie say in a steely voice.

It was hard for Mira to hear anything over her own sobbing. She’d lost her friends, her trust in her dad, and cotillion, and now she’d lost Kellen too. She felt a tap on her shoulder and turned around. Izzie stood there, her cell phone hanging limply in her hand. Her lower lip was trembling, and one big, fat tear rolled down her cheek. It was the most upset Izzie had ever been in front of her. Mira wished she had a tissue so she could wipe her nose.

Izzie offered her the next best thing: her hand. Mira looked at it for half a second before taking it. She held on tight as they walked to the pool house.

Izzie had never spent much time in the pool house. That might have explained why it took her a minute to figure out where she was when she woke up late the next day on top of a bunch of outdoor cushions. Then the night before came flooding back to her like a bad dream—the cringe-worthy dinner party at the Townsends, walking out on Brayden, fighting with Bill, wondering if he really was her dad, finding out he definitely was her dad but that he was still a big, fat disappointment, and telling everyone she wasn’t going to cotillion.