Page 12 of On His Mind
“A thing?” I question, knowing she means one of their notorious parties.
“You’re coming.”
“Am I?”
“You are, because last year you came to two parties total and you left both of them too early. One of them you left beforeten.” She rolls her eyes. “Anyways, this is the first party of the year. We have to go.”
I start folding my jeans. “I’ll think about it.”
She gives me a face. “That’s a no in a nice dress.”
I take the shoe back from her. “That’s athink about it.”
My phone goes off on the dresser. I already know who it is by the ringtone, and my body automatically stands up a little straighter.
I pick up my phone and answer, “Hi, Mom.”
“Penelope, honey. You’re on for six tonight.”
I go still with a hanger in my hand. I don’t know what she means. “Six?”
“Yes, for an interview.”
“What interview?”
“The Whitmores, darling.” Amused, like I’ve done something charming. “The internship.”
The name comes back slowly. Christmas parties. A charity thing at the Peninsula when I was fifteen, where I worked the dessert table in three separate passes while adults stood around holding wine and talking about zoning.
“I thought that wasn’t until October.”
“It was moved. They need someone sooner.”
Across the room, Ivory has stopped moving.
She’s not on her phone anymore. She’s watching me the way you watch a pan you think might go over, and I turn toward the window.
“I’ve already sent them your portfolio.”
The hanger is still in my hand. I put it down on the dresser very carefully, because the other option is snapping it.
“You sent them my portfolio.”
“They were delighted, Penelope. Richard called me himself. They have real reach in Chicago — if you’re smart tonight, this could turn into something significant.”
Which means she already knows what it turns into. My mother doesn’t sound hopeful. She sounds like someone telling me how a book ends.
“Six,” I say. “Tonight.”
“Mm. Did you get the package?”
I look at the dress hanging in my closet.
“Yes.”
“Good. Wear it.”
I glare at the dress.
