Pretty Little Secrets

Page 42

Colin leaned over and stared in the water, silent. Spencer couldn’t help but notice how closely the water matched his eyes. He looked so sad and torn. Spencer could practically feel him wanting to break up with Ramona for her.
“I can’t imagine someone wanting to fight with you, Spencer,” he said. “You seem so easy to get along with—and so full of life. I wish Ramona had your sense of adventure.”
The sun suddenly felt very hot on the top of Spencer’s head. Colin adjusted his seat, casually inching closer to her. There was a tiny bit of sand stuck to his cheek; Spencer reached up and flicked it away. At the same time, he leaned forward, maybe about to kiss her. Spencer shut her eyes and waited.
Suddenly, a whistle blew from the dock.
“Let’s bring ’em in!” Richard yelled. “It’s getting too windy!”
The romantic mood immediately shattered. Colin sat back on his haunches. Spencer turned toward the rudder, suppressing a groan.
They secured the boat to the slip and climbed onto the dock. Melissa and Merv were pulling in behind them, and Richard was busy helping them out of the water. Spencer faced Colin, wanting to pick up where they’d left off.
“So,” he started.
“So.” She bit her bottom lip.
A Mercedes convertible pulled into the parking lot and honked. Ramona was at the wheel. Colin glanced at Spencer, a quick look, then sighed. “I should probably get going,” he said reluctantly. “Will I see you later, at the luau?”
Spencer forced a smile onto her face. “Yep. See you there!”
She watched him walk down the dock and climb into the car. She might have been imagining it, but she was pretty sure he looked back at Spencer longingly. And from the thumbs-up Melissa was giving her, it seemed her sister had noticed it, too.
Chapter 7
Shopping, with a Splash of Awkwardness
Nana’s house was cool and smelled like fresh oranges when Spencer walked through the side door later that morning. “Oh,” she said, stopping short in the doorway. Her mother was sitting on a stool at the island, staring at something on TV. Spencer was about to slink out of the room when a headline on the screen caught her eye. Silver Panthers Terrorize Atlantic City. There was a shot of two large jungle cats prowling past the various glittering casinos.
“Is this a joke?” Spencer blurted.
Her mother shook her head. “Someone let performing panthers out of their cages in Atlantic City. Apparently one of them almost tore off a woman’s arm.”
She’d just said more words to Spencer than she had in days, so Spencer dared to sit down on the stool next to her and watch the remainder of the newscast. Animal control teams were working hard to round up the panthers, but the creatures were extremely stealthy.
When the news broke for commercials, Spencer felt her mother’s eyes on her. She slid off the stool, prepared to hustle up to her room so her mom didn’t have to endure her presence. Then her mother let out a regretful sigh. “I’m sorry about how I’ve behaved toward you in the past few days, Spencer.”
Spencer stopped in her tracks. “It’s okay,” she said quickly.
“Things have been . . . tense.” She touched her forehead. “Your dad and I had a big argument that hasn’t exactly gotten resolved. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”
“Seriously, it’s all right.” Spencer busied herself with a copy of the Miami Herald on the island, too flustered with this sudden change of heart to look her mom in the eye.
Her mother eased off the stool and turned off the television. “I’d like to make it up to you. There’s a new boutique called Astrid that just opened up in town. Want to go?”
“I’d love to go with you.” Spencer’s heart began to buoy. They hadn’t been shopping together in a long time. They hadn’t done anything together in a long time.
“Great. Be ready in ten minutes.” Her mother swung her purse over her shoulder and shot Spencer a smile. It might have been pinched and tense and still a bit frosty, but at least it wasn’t a grimace.
Astrid boutique was a mix of Miami chic and casual beach cool, featuring a lot of caftans, flowing dresses, white denim, and rubber flip-flops that cost over $100. A Rolling Stones song played over the stereo, and the salesgirls were busily folding merchandise when Spencer and her mom swept through the front door.
Spencer made a beeline to the denim table, and her mother followed her. After sifting through the piles of jeans, her mother cleared her throat. “So you and Melissa seem to be getting along.”
“I guess so,” Spencer said, surprised that her mother had noticed.
“How is she doing with all the Ian stuff?”
Spencer flinched. “Honestly, I don’t know. We haven’t really talked about it.” She and Melissa had continued to keep their conversations light—mostly they talked about Colin or made fun of the outfits his groupies wore.
“You did the right thing by turning Ian in, you know,” she said. “We have no idea what that boy’s capable of. And to think we’d invited him into our home with open arms.” She shook her head. “I’m considering pressing charges against him myself—for psychological damage. Your father thinks I’m crazy.”
“Is that what you’ve been fighting about?” Spencer asked.
A startled look came over her mother’s face. She traced the stitching on the back pocket of a pair of faded blue jeggings. “No,” she said quietly. “It was something else.”
Straightening up, she pulled a short romper off a nearby rack and held it up to Spencer’s frame. “This would look cute on you.”
Spencer eyed it suspiciously. “Won’t it make me look really young?”
“There’s nothing wrong with looking young.” She folded the outfit over her arm. “I think you should try it. It’s adorable.”
“Well, then, you have to try something, too.” Spencer pulled a blue-and-white printed maxi dress from a hanger. “Dad would love you in this.”
Her mother pursed her lips. “I’m not sure I have the body for that.”
Spencer waved her finger in her face. “No negativity! Just try it.”
They both found open dressing rooms. Spencer kicked off her shorts and shoes, staring at her bare legs in the mirror. She pulled on the romper. Surprisingly, it didn’t make her look as young as she’d anticipated. The high cut caused her legs to look long and tan, and it cinched in neatly at the waist.
Out front, jingle bells on the doorknob tinkled. The salesgirls murmured, and footsteps sounded in the back hall near the dressing rooms. Spencer glanced under the curtain and saw two thin calves ending in slender ankles and silver gladiator sandals. Whoever it was just stood there, not moving.
A tingle traveled up Spencer’s spine. She felt like whoever it was could see her through the curtain. She was about to call out, but then the gladiator-sandaled feet pivoted and walked away.
“Spence?” Her mother called from the next dressing room over. “I think you were right about this dress.”
“Let me see, let me see!” Spencer cried.
She stepped around the curtain to find her mother standing in the hall. The maxi dress skimmed her narrow hips and brightened her skin. “It’s beautiful,” Spencer breathed. “You should get it.”
Her mother padded barefoot to the three-way mirror in the main showroom. She tilted her hips this way and that, then inspected her backside. “I suppose it is nice.” She met Spencer’s eyes and smiled. “Good choice.”
Spencer’s heart warmed. When had her mom last complimented her?
Then, Spencer’s mother’s expression shifted at something in the mirror. A tall, thin, elegant blond woman was flipping rapidly through the racks behind them. A khaki-colored quilted Chanel bag hung from her shoulder, her skin was perfectly tan, there wasn’t an ounce of fat on her body, and she had a very recognizable heart-shaped face. Was that . . . ? It couldn’t be.
The woman looked up and spotted them. Her features registered a note of surprise, and she glanced over her shoulder toward the sidewalk for a millisecond before swinging back to them. “Veronica?” she asked in an all-too-familiar voice.
“Jessica,” Spencer’s mother croaked.
Spencer resisted the urge to gasp. It was Jessica DiLaurentis. Ali’s mom.
“My goodness, what a nice surprise!” Jessica DiLaurentis glided over and gave Spencer and Spencer’s mom air kisses. “It’s so lovely to see you!”
Spencer’s mother snapped back into her perfect Main Line hostess mode, all traces of discomfort gone. “It’s so nice to see you!” she chirped in a clipped, haughty voice she reserved for neighbors, fellow charity board members, and new parents at Rosewood Day she didn’t feel were worthy enough to be on school committees. “What are you doing here?”
“We have a house here, remember?” When Mrs. DiLaurentis gave a cool half-smile, it was like seeing Ali’s ghost. “We decided to come down here for New Year’s. Decompress before Ian’s trial.” She fingered the giant Gucci sunglasses on top of her head.
“Of course,” Spencer’s mother said. Her voice betrayed nothing, but when Spencer looked down, she noticed that her mother had one hand tucked behind her back. It was furiously picking at the skin around her thumbnail. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to speak more at the arraignment. It was just such a whirlwind.”
Mrs. DiLaurentis waved her hand. “We’ll have plenty of time to catch up. We’ve bought a house near Rosewood—in Yarmouth. We wanted to be close by for the trial.” Her phone let out a ping, and she peeked inside the Chanel bag. “Oh, I’d better run,” she said. “It was lovely to see you both. Give my best to Peter and Melissa!”
“Yes, all the best to your family, too!” Spencer’s mother beamed.
Ali’s mother exited the boutique, still glancing at her phone screen. When Spencer turned back to her own mother, the composed expression had disappeared from her face once more. She ran her hands up and down her hips. The skin on her thumb had been rubbed raw.
“Mom?” Spencer touched her mother’s arm. “Are you okay?”
She blinked hard. “Of course. We should go, though. I think the heat is getting to me.”
She was about to head for the door when Spencer caught her arm. “Mom. You’re still . . .” She trailed off, gesturing to the maxi dress her mother was still wearing. The tags dangled from under her arm.
Her mother looked down and tittered unsteadily. “Goodness. Right.”
She walked back to the dressing room as though nothing had been amiss. Spencer stood rooted to the spot for a moment, an uneasy cramp in her stomach. It was natural for Spencer to feel uncomfortable in Mrs. DiLaurentis’s presence—she was one of the last people to see Ali alive. But why in the world would her mother fall to pieces in front of their former neighbor?
Chapter 8
How to Get Lei’d
When Spencer stepped onto the yacht club’s parking lot that night for the pre–New Year’s party, she could smell the heady scents of grilled pineapple and poi, tiki-torch smoke, and coconut. Since everyone had been asked to show up dressed for the luau theme, Spencer wore a short, floral-printed dress and an orchid flower behind her ear, which kept sending out romantic whiffs of perfume with every toss of her hair. Melissa had on a long printed maxi dress and floral lei around her neck. Spencer’s mother had stubbornly refused to wear anything but a white Calvin Klein sheath, though she’d begrudgingly put on a pair of sparkly high-heeled thongs and an oversized floral statement necklace. Her father wore an obnoxious orange and pink Hawaiian shirt under his Armani sport jacket, just like every other man in the room over the age of forty.