Winter White (16 page)

“Time for the breaststroke one-hundred-meter race, one minute and nine seconds, a win for Isabelle Scott,” said the announcer as Izzie pulled herself out of the pool.

“Nice one, Izzie!” Coach Greff threw a towel around her.

“You are a machine, woman!” marveled Violet, who was standing with Nicole.

Nicole grabbed Izzie’s arm and led her to their section in the bleachers. “Look at your triceps! No wonder you powered through two laps! Are you sneaking in workouts?”

“Yes,” Izzie lied, still out of breath. “After you guys leave, I do fifty laps.”

“Show-off.” Violet adjusted her camo swim cap. “You are quickly becoming the star of this team. Coach Greff is your biggest fan.”

The indoor pool had a high glass ceiling, but the area felt like a hothouse. As Izzie glanced at Savannah across the bleachers through the muggy haze, she could almost feel the other girl’s hatred. “Let’s hope you-know-who doesn’t see it that way. I don’t need any more problems.”

“She’s too preoccupied with cotillion to worry about you,” Nicole assured her.

“And she’s ignoring the Butterflies because of it,” Izzie grumbled. “She missed our meeting the other day because she was shoe shopping for our next dance lesson!”

“Are you surprised? Butterflies isn’t her main focus anymore,” Violet said. “She has a white dress to buy and a group of fellow debs-in-training to make miserable.”

Izzie shook her head. “Mrs. Fitz seemed upset when she
and Mira didn’t show. Mira at least had an excuse. She had to go to some gallery for an art assignment, but still. Mrs. Fitz said she feels like no one is taking their club duties seriously, and it’s true. There are so many things we could be doing, and instead we can barely get everyone to a meeting.”

“Wait till Founders Day planning starts,” Nicole warned her. “It’s even harder to get everyone’s attention then.”

Izzie got so frustrated by the Butterflies system sometimes that she wanted to scream. Mrs. Fitz needed to put herself in charge, but she wouldn’t. She was a by-the-rules girl, as she called herself, and the rules said that Savannah and Mira were in charge.

“Seems to me like you know how to get the Butterflies’ civic duties charged better than anyone in that club,” Violet said. “Why don’t you organize the next event?”

Izzie bit her lip. “I know I did the last one, but who cares? I’ve started thinking the same thing myself.”

“Woohoo! She realizes her power!” Violet clapped excitedly.

“But I can’t,” Izzie reminded them. “Only a cochair can nominate a new project.”

“These rules are ridiculous,” said Violet. “We picked the wrong cochairs.”

“One of our cochairs gets whatever she wants,” Nicole agreed. “Including dance partners.” Nicole turned to Violet.
“Savannah actually danced with Brayden at our cotillion lunch, and she didn’t have to cuff him to get him to do it. He asked her!”

Izzie continued to towel off. “Thanks for rubbing it in.”

“I can’t believe Brayden would do that to you,” Violet said, sounding indignant.

“Want to know what is worse? He hasn’t even apologized,” Izzie said, and Violet’s eyes widened. “I’ve barely spoken to him since the event, and when I saw him today in class, he acted like everything was fine. I wanted to sock him in the stomach.”

“What a jerk.” Violet pulled her goggles over her swim cap and removed her red shorts, which said
Emerald Prep
on the butt. Her 100-meter freestyle was coming up.

“You guys aren’t being fair.” Nicole liked to play devil’s advocate, but Izzie wasn’t in the mood. “Maybe his mom put him up to it. You have no idea how much control that woman has. She’s probably got Brayden under some sort of voodoo spell.”

“He looked fine to me,” Izzie said. “He danced with her three times, then disappeared. It’s as if he thinks if he doesn’t talk about it, it never happened.”

“Now I wish I was doing cotillion,” Violet grumbled. “I wouldn’t want to do stupid stunts like your Gaga sing-along, but I would have loved to be at your welcome tea so I could kick Brayden’s butt.” She sounded like Kylie. When Izzie
had told her what happened at the luncheon, Kylie screamed all sorts of things that Izzie couldn’t repeat.

“Brayden must be waiting to talk to you alone,” Nicole guessed. “He probably had to put on a show for his mom since his sister is doing the opposite. You guys know about Dylan, right?” Violet shook her head, and Izzie figured it was best to do the same.

“I guess you wouldn’t,” Nicole realized. “She was gone before either of you came to town.” She looked at Izzie. “She’s one of the debs running our initiation. The tall, skinny one with long blond hair.”

“Aren’t they all tall, skinny, and blond?” Izzie joked. Dylan had trusted her enough to share her secret, and she didn’t want to blow it.

Nicole folded her long legs under her. She’d already swum the backstroke and the 500-meter freestyle, so she had plenty of time to share gossip. “When Dylan was here at EP, I heard, the things she did were so crazy, her parents had to ship her to a boarding school in New England.”

“What did she do that was so wrong?” Izzie couldn’t help but ask. “Get drunk at a party or date some guy they didn’t like?” That’s what Mira had said happened, but neither scenario sounded banishment-worthy. It irked her how quick everyone was to jump to conclusions about Dylan when they barely knew her.

Nicole shook her head. “Think worse. Dylan drove her
mom’s Porsche Roadster without a license and crashed it into the horse stables near Harper Browning’s farm.”

“She’s the one who destroyed the stables?” Violet was aghast. “I heard about that when I moved here.”

Nicole leaned in closer. “Yep. She wasn’t drinking, but the accident happened in the middle of the night, and the EC police chief was the first on the scene. She was in the car with some guy who definitely wasn’t Junior League–approved. Everyone knew the story by morning—the police chief’s wife is a big Junior Leaguer—and Dylan’s mom was mortified. She was shipped out to St. Bernadine’s the following week. Abigail Townsend has no tolerance for mistakes, especially from her daughter.”

Driving without a license and stealing her mother’s car was definitely a mistake, but the accident might not have been her fault
, Izzie thought.
The guy in the car could have been anyone. Just because he wasn’t from here didn’t make the story more of a scandal.
Maybe it was time for her to change the subject. “I don’t think Mrs. Townsend has a high tolerance for a lot of people,” she said. “Especially me.”

“What makes you say that?” Violet asked.

“She didn’t seem too fond of me at cotillion, especially after I got hot tea on her jacket.” Violet’s eyes widened. “Cotillion dare,” Izzie explained. “Then I got a note from her yesterday saying I needed extra help in the ballroom-dance department. She also said I have less than one week to find a
legitimate charity to work with to fulfill my community commitment, or I’ll flunk out of cotillion.”

“You can’t fail out of cotillion.” Nicole frowned. “I think.”

Izzie pulled the ice-blue monogrammed stationery out of her bag and handed it to the girls. “I’m not so sure of that. Take a look at the note yourself.”

“Hi, girls.” Savannah had come from out of nowhere. “Nice race, Izzie. Too bad you couldn’t score just a teensy bit higher. We would have had the lead.” She noticed the blue card in Nicole’s hands, and her face lit up. “Did you get a note from Abigail Townsend? I’d recognize her Tiffany note cards anywhere.”

“God, do you have the Townsends on radar or something?” Nicole slipped the note back into Izzie’s bag before Savannah could reach for it.

Savannah adjusted her pink swim cap. “She gave me a thank-you note just the other day, actually. She wanted to thank me for agreeing to dance with Brayden at the welcome tea.” Izzie’s back stiffened. “I called her right up and said, ‘Mrs. Townsend, why wouldn’t I dance with your son? Our families have dinner together every week.’ ” She eyed Izzie with determination. “ ‘No matter what has happened between us, a bond like that doesn’t disappear overnight.’ ” Savannah smiled sweetly. “But don’t worry, Izzie. I’m sure you’ll be invited over to meet them all eventually. You’d fit right in—with Dylan.” She walked away before Izzie could trip her.

Izzie’s foot began to tap uncontrollably. Why had Brayden never mentioned that the Ingrams and Townsends got together every week?

“Do not let her get to you,” Nicole said angrily. “She’s just jealous.”

“Of what? All the family dinners she is having with Brayden and Izzie isn’t?” Violet said incredulously. Both girls looked at her. “I’m sorry. I know Brayden’s a good guy, but first he didn’t text you back about being at the welcome tea, then he somehow forgets to mention these weekly dinners? What gives?”

Violet was right. Izzie didn’t think she could feel much worse till she felt a tap on her shoulder.

“Hi, Isabelle,” Bill said awkwardly. His tie and sports coat looked out of place in the steamy aquatic center. “Great race back there. You, too, girls.”

For a split second, she was touched. Bill had come from the office just to see her. She hadn’t had family cheer her on at a meet in a long time. Grams had attended many, but in the last year, she had no clue what was going on.

“It’s so nice to see you, Senator Monroe.” Nicole’s voice was chipper, like it was on autopilot. Izzie noticed this happened a lot with her friends from Emerald Cove. No matter how annoyed they were at someone’s parents, the minute that adult came into view, their manners took over. Izzie couldn’t fake the enthusiasm.

“I should get ready for my next race,” Violet told them. “It was nice seeing you, Senator Monroe. Come on, Nic. Why don’t you help me warm up?”

Izzie’s foot tapped faster now. She didn’t want her friends to kiss Bill’s butt, but she didn’t want them to leave her there alone, either.

“Mind if I sit down?” Bill asked. He stared at the empty seat next to her.

“I should warm up for my next race, too,” Izzie told him. She glanced at the board. She didn’t really have to. There were still seven races ahead of hers.

“I won’t stay long.” He sat down, and for ten minutes, they watched the race in silence. Violet’s heat was finally up. When she won, Izzie was so happy, she almost hugged Bill.

“It’s okay to smile around me, you know,” Bill said. Izzie didn’t answer him. “You have every right to be mad at me, but I am still going to try to win you over. I used to argue my case with your mom all the time.”

The hair on Izzie’s arms may have been wet, but they stood up.

“Chloe was stubborn when we fought,” he added. “Not that we fought often.”

“You didn’t fight often, because you only knew her a few months,” Izzie said.

“True.” He watched the next heat. “But we spent practically every nonworking moment together. You learn a lot
about a person quickly when you practically live with them.” He studied Izzie for a moment. “You have her mouth—both the shape and the attitude that comes with it. She was big with causes like you are, too. It didn’t matter what the cause was,” he said with a laugh. “She’d fight for a street that needed a crossing signal, picket till a school agreed to build a new playground, or fight to keep the vegetable garden in our neighborhood from being turned into a parking lot. Your mom was a one-woman call to arms.”

Izzie wished she had the nerve to tell him to stop talking, but part of her wanted to hear what he had to say. She didn’t know her mom shared the same need to give back that she did. There was no one left to tell her what her mom was like. Sometimes she even craved hearing her mom’s name spoken out loud so it wouldn’t disappear.

“Even back then, Chloe was a big swimmer,” Bill said. “She’d drag me to the beach at East Rockaway, and she’d want to stay on the sand from sunup to sundown.” Izzie turned toward him to hear more, and he did the same, his hazel eyes full of energy. “She was a rabble-rouser, always swimming out beyond the ropes. Anything to tick off a lifeguard.” He smiled at the memory. “Chloe said she had spent her life in the ocean and no one knew it as well as she did. She used to have an expression about it actually. Something about glory, I think.”

“No guts, no glory,” Izzie said quietly. Their voices were
drowned out by more cheering. EC’s team was up by thirty points. Even though everyone else was standing, Izzie and her dad sat locked in their conversation. “Mom used to say the same thing to me when she was teaching me how to swim,” Izzie told him. “I remember her liking a challenge. Any challenge.”

“I do, too,” he said, leaning forward. “We’d make bets over who could make the bed the neatest.” He stopped, embarrassed. “Not that I stayed over.”

“Of course not,” Izzie said wryly. “The stork brought me.”

“Exactly.” He nodded solemnly. “Chloe was one-of-a-kind. She would talk for hours about what she wanted to do with her life and where she wanted to go.”

The last part struck a nerve.

“But that didn’t happen, did it? She never got to go anywhere but New York,” Izzie said, feeling the fire in her heat up again. “She came home pregnant with me and never left Harborside again.”

Bill looked her squarely in the eye. “I may not have known about you, but I knew your mom, and no matter how far she wanted to travel, she never regretted where she called home. She loved North Carolina. Chloe always said she could never see herself living anywhere else.”

Izzie could feel the ugly seeping into their conversation. “Why did you leave her?”

Bill’s face twisted slightly. “I… we… it just didn’t work
out,” he said awkwardly, and Izzie stared at him so long, she almost didn’t hear her name. Her race was next.

“I have to warm up.” She placed her goggles over her swim cap.

“Before you go, I have something else I need to tell you,” he said.

She was already depressed. Did he really have to make her feel worse?

“There’s going to be another story in the papers tomorrow.” For the first time, Izzie noticed how tired Bill looked. “Grayson Landon, the reporter at the
North Carolina Gazette
on my beat, claims to have taped a conversation with you and Mira.”

“He’s lying,” Izzie said. “Mira and I aren’t stupid. We wouldn’t talk about you in public.”