The Favorites: A Novel(22)

Still, we were guests. There was no need to be rude.

“Hey.” I set the plate down and took Heath’s face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. “Don’t be like this.”

“Like what?”

“Cranky.” I kissed him. His mouth stayed stiff and unyielding. “Broody.”

“You knew I didn’t want to come here, Katarina.”

I dropped my hands. “Then you shouldn’t have come. No one forced you.”

I was no longer sure whether we were talking about the party, or about Los Angeles in general. Either way, I’d had about enough of his bad attitude.

Garrett reappeared with a crimson drink in a sugared-rim cocktail glass. “Virgin daiquiri for the lady.” He produced a small bottle from his jacket pocket and held it out to Heath. “And I grabbed you a water, just in case. Hope sparkling’s okay.”

For a moment, I felt sure Heath was going to dash the bottle against the floor. Instead, he took it with a toothy, sarcastic grin. I’d never seen him look that way at anyone but my brother.

“Sparkling is splendid, thank you ever so much.”

Garrett’s friendly smile faltered. “Well, uh, let me know if I can get you anything else.”

As soon as Garrett was out of earshot, I dug my nails into Heath’s wrist. “What’s the matter with you?”

“What’s the matter with you? The Katarina I know would be making fun of all these stuck-up assholes, not sucking up to them.”

“You’re the one who’s being an asshole right now, not Garrett. He can’t help his upbringing any more than you can help yours.”

I knew that would hit a nerve, and I said it anyway. Heath wrenched out of my grip and slammed his sparkling water down on the nearest table.

“Heath.”

He turned, the heels of his sneakers squeaking against the polished floor, and stalked out into the yard.

“Heath.”

I’d raised my voice loud enough that two women—actresses I vaguely recognized from a prime-time drama—turned to stare at me. I dipped my head toward my drink to hide the flush spreading across my face.

“Where’s he off to in such a hurry?”

Ellis Dean sidled up, holding his own cocktail. Heath was so far away now he looked like a smudge against the sky. I wasn’t sure whether he was going to cool off and come back, or leave the party—and I told myself I didn’t give a damn either way. He could walk back to the Grange for all I cared.

“He’s…not feeling well,” I told Ellis.

“Sure.” Ellis held out his elbow. “Shall we mingle?”

I linked my arm through his, and for the next hour, we made the rounds together. Ellis was fearless in a crowd the way I was on the ice. As he insinuated himself into conversations with famous strangers, I watched and learned—and clutched my drink close, terrified I might spill sticky red slush all over Sheila Lin’s immaculate decor.

Around sunset, I finally spotted her—and Bella. They stood side by side on the patio, backlit with burnished light. Sheila wore a white gown with an intricately twisted Grecian goddess neckline, while Bella’s dress was pale blue with delicate white embroidery, in a similar bias-cut slip style to the one I’d borrowed from Arielle. On her, though, the fabric skimmed over her body instead of clinging. She and her mother looked so alike. Not only their features, but their gestures, their posture, their practiced smiles.

I thought about nudging Ellis in that direction—approaching Sheila seemed less nerve-wracking with him as a conversational wingman—but the Lin women were already occupied, talking to an older lady with tightly coiled red hair.

“Who’s that?” I asked. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her.

“Jane Currer,” Ellis said.

“The judge?”

Jane was the official whose harsh artistic score cost Heath and me a medal at Nationals. And now there she was, laughing with the Lins like they were old friends.

“Don’t tell me you thought this sport was fair,” Ellis said. “That’s adorable.”

He pointed out a few other guests. “She’s a judge too. And him. And that guy’s the current second in command at the U.S. Figure Skating Association, but if Sheila has her way, he’ll have the top job by the start of the season.”

“How do you know all this?”

“I pay attention.” He raised his glass in a sweeping gesture. “You want to win on the ice, you have to win here first.”

I didn’t want to believe him. I thought my talent and hard work would be enough.

That’s how young and foolish I was.



* * *



—

As the sun faded and the temperature fell, all the partygoers who’d been on the patio retreated indoors. The doors were pulled shut against the night air, and what had been a pleasant hum of small talk and soft music became a cacophony, ricocheting off the vaulted ceiling.

Still no sign of Heath. A headache brewed behind my eyes, from the noise and the too sweet mocktail and all that smiling, so I left Ellis trading Parisian nightlife tales with Arielle’s partner, Lucien, and slipped into the backyard alone.

The night might have felt freezing to the Californians, but it was balmy to me. And quiet, despite the distant thunder of fireworks displays farther down the coast. I slipped off my shoes and let my feet sink into the grass.