The Ashford Affair by Lauren Willig Read Free Book Online

Enough. Mother had told her to start herding. She made her way over to Aunt Anna and one of the assorted family-friend group. Granny’s accountant, maybe? He looked familiar, but she wasn’t sure.
    “Sorry to interrupt,” she said, baring her teeth in a fake social smile. “I’m supposed to be herding people into the dining room. It’s a buffet.”
    “Oh, goody, no place cards,” said Aunt Anna. “I always seem to get stuck next to the biggest bores. You’d think someone was doing it deliberately.”
    And by “someone” she meant Clemmie’s mother.
    “No, no place cards this time,” said Clemmie. “Will you excuse me? I should go herd people.”
    Aunt Anna tapped her companion on the shoulder. “Save me a spot, Phil? I just want a word with my niece.” Having neatly disposed of Phil, Aunt Anna turned back to Clemmie, her perfectly manicured brows drawing together in concern. “You all right, sweetums? You look like someone’s been tap-dancing on your grave.”
    Clemmie could hear her mother’s voice in her head. Don’t tell Aunt Anna anything. You don’t know how she’ll use it. Silly. Aunt Anna was Granny Addie’s daughter, too. And she’d always been sweet to Clemmie. A little phony, yes, but fundamentally okay.
    Clemmie bit her lip, shaking her head. “It’s Granny. She’s … not all there. The nurse says it’s normal, that it’s just because she’s tired, but—”
    Suddenly it was all too much, the day, Dan, Granny Addie. A week ago, everything seemed so firmly in place, fiancé, future, family. And now, poof! Where had it all gone? No fiancé, which meant no family; her mother pissy; her grandmother losing her marbles; everything falling apart all around her. The only thing that was constant was her damn BlackBerry. She hated that BlackBerry.
    Partner, she told herself; she was going to make partner. Her name on the firm letterhead and a brass plaque outside a corner office. That was supposed to make up for it all. At the moment, she couldn’t remember why.
    “She didn’t even know who I was,” Clemmie blurted out. “She called me Bea.”
    Wine sloshed over the top of Aunt Anna’s glass as she juggled to keep her grip. “Fuck,” she cursed, swiping at the splotch on her champagne silk sheath with her cocktail napkin. “I just had this dry-cleaned.”
    “Here.” Clemmie took the wineglass from her as Aunt Anna mopped at the damage. “At least it’s pretty much the same color?”
    “Ha,” said Aunt Anna bitterly, retrieving her glass from Clemmie. She looked, Clemmie thought, much older suddenly. Older and harder. Her eyes weren’t green like Grandpa Frederick’s or brown like Granny Addie’s, but a clear, pale blue. “Your mother hasn’t told you anything, has she?”
    Clemmie’s ears pricked up. “About Granny Addie?” Those pills … She didn’t like this. She didn’t like any of it.
    Aunt Anna’s lips pressed together. “This is so like Marjorie.” Aunt Anna tapped her Prada-shod foot against Granny Addie’s Axminster carpet. “I can’t believe she didn’t tell you.”
    Fear made Clemmie’s skin prickle. “Tell me what?”
    Aunt Anna tapped a nail against her arm. “What time do you go into work?”
    “Nine thirty,” said Clemmie automatically. “Usually. Why?”
    Aunt Anna rolled her eyes. “I suppose I’m just lucky you’re not a banker. All right. Come see me tomorrow morning, around eight. You have the address?”
    “Um, yes, I think so.” Her mother was giving them the fish-eye. If there was something about Granny Addie’s condition, Clemmie wanted to know it now. “But—”
    “Good. We can talk then. Without scrutiny.” She smiled broadly at Clemmie’s mother, giving a little wave for good measure. Mother did not look pleased. “Tomorrow.”
    “Aunt Anna—” But her aunt had already drifted away on a fog of expensive perfume. “Damn.”
    Across the room, Aunt Anna caught Clemmie’s eye. Tomorrow morning, she mouthed.
    And