Page 9 of Snow

She grabbed the manila envelope and her purse. She hopped out of the vehicle and headed toward the house. She grinned at the sound her flip-flops made as they slapped against the concrete as she walked up the driveway.

Her mother was going to blow a gasket when she saw what she was wearing. For Easter brunch, everyone was expected to dress their best. And the pair of light gray capri joggers, a long-sleeved black T-shirt, and flip-flops were definitely not what her mother had in mind.

Before she could make it up the steps, the heavy oak door swung open, and her mother, Erica, stood there wearing a multi-colored pastel dress and pearls like she was about to have tea with royalty. Her blonde hair was perfectly styled, and her makeup flawless.

“You’re late,” her mother said in a clipped voice. But the moment her eyes landed on Nova’s attire, they widened in horror.

“What on earth are you wearing?” her mother gasped, clutching her pearl necklace like Nova had shown up dressed like a clown. “It’s Easter brunch, Nova. You can’t possibly think that’s appropriate attire.”

Nova stared at her mom, completely unfazed. She adjusted the strap of her purse over her shoulder before responding. “It’s comfortable. And I’m not here to impress anyone.”

Her mother’s lips pursed. “You need to go upstairs and change. There are some spare dresses in your old room.”

Nova cocked her head slightly. “If what I’m wearing bothers you that much, I can save us both the trouble and just leave.”

Her mother drew back as if Nova’s words had slapped her. For a long moment, her mom said nothing, just stared at her, as if trying to decide whether to throw a tantrum or let it be. When she stepped aside without a word, Nova took it as her answer.

She strode past her and into the marble-floored foyer, her flip-flops slapping with satisfying defiance. Without breaking stride, she marched toward the dining room with her head held high.

The gleaming marble floors stretched out like a museum. The grand entryway of her parents’ home was already buzzing with voices, the soft clink of glassware, and the faint notes of classical music playing somewhere deeper in the house.

As she entered the formal dining room, conversation dropped like someone had hit mute. Every seat but one around the long, polished table was filled.

At the center of it all was her father, Leonard Hart. He sat at the head of the table, looking like a man in power. His sharp gaze was fixed on her with quiet authority. Every pair of eyes in the room followed his lead, watching her.

Nova walked over and slapped the envelope down in front of him.

“Here’s the paperwork you wanted, though I’m not sure why you needed me to stop by Rick’s and bring it to you, considering he was home,” she said.

Leonard finally looked up, his piercing dark eyes narrowing slightly.

“What do you mean he was home?” he asked.

Nova tilted her head. She was trying to decide how she wanted Rick’s betrayal to play out.

Her mom walked back into the room and took her seat next to Nova’s dad. She shot Nova daggers; clearly she still had her panties in a twist over Nova’s attire.

Nova walked toward the middle of the table, where the lone empty chair sat, which she assumed was for her. Once she was seated, she picked up the crystal flute in front of her and took a sip of the mimosa before locking eyes with her dad.

“I’m just wondering why you needed me to bring you the documents when Rick could have brought them himself.”

“I told you, Rick was out of town, and I needed them today,” he answered, sounding annoyed that he had to respond to her statement.

“Well, like I said, when I stopped by Rick’s place, he was home.”

Her dad, along with Rick’s parents, looked surprised when they heard that. Her dad’s bushy eyebrows scrunched together.

Rick’s mom, Cece, dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “Oh. Well, is Rick coming?”

Nova gave a small, sarcastic laugh and shook her head. “Oh no. I doubt that he’ll be joining us today.”

There was a pause, and everyone at the table exchanged glances.

Nova took another sip of her mimosa before setting it down and pulling her phone from her purse. She pulled up the video and hit the share button. A few more taps, and her parents’, Rick’s parents’, and her brothers’ phones all pinged or buzzed with incoming messages.

“I’m pretty sure that brunch would be too awkward after I walked in on him hosting a hands-on team-building session with Piper from the office. Check your phones.”

Nova’s words hung in the air for a second before everyone at the table seemed to move at once, pulling their phones from pockets and purses.