Fourteen
“Hors d’oeuvre?” a server asked, presenting a silver tray with slices of raw liver and a questionable looking paté.
“No, thanks. I’m not hungry.”
“Are you sure?” Mother’s voice sounded next to me. “Probably for the best. Your dress is already a little tight around the waist.”
“Thanks, Mother.”
She patted my face with her dry hand, the beady armbands clanking loudly. “Aw, don’t pull that face, darling. It’s not good for your wrinkles.”
“Sorry.” Why was I apologising for the way my face looked? “Say, have you seen—”
“Listen, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. He’s an acquaintance of Regina, my friend from bridge.”
“Mother, I’m engaged.”
“No, you’re not. You should really stop wearing that ring around your neck, it gives people the wrong impression.”
“It doesn’t matter w
