Jane’s smile monopolized her entire face. It was a phrase she’d used for most of my youth. She’d remind me that the Montague way of life was nothing more than show, a display for the outside world. Whenever I’d be forced to attend a public function or do something I didn’t want to do, she’d make me feel better by reminding me that it was all a dog and pony show. It helped. I could do whatever I was supposed to do as long as I remembered who I really was. She’d tell me that pretty on the outside wasn’t as important as pretty on the inside. And she’d always remind me of how beautiful she thought I was.

Her smile dimmed. “You forgot to put on that dress your momma bought.”

“No,” I said with the confidence I’d almost forgotten I possessed. “I didn’t forget. Alexandria doesn’t live here anymore.”

“You’re even more beautiful than I remember.”

“Thank you, Jane. So are you.”

THE MURMURED CONVERSATION between Alton and my mother turned to silence as I stepped into the dining room. I watched with satisfaction as red crept from the starched collar of Alton’s shirt like a tide, making its way up his thick neck to the tips of his ears. Time had changed his once blonde hair to white. I fought back my smile as something about the contrast of the reddening of his skin and the white of his hair amused me. With the vein in his forehead popping to attention and his jaw clenched, he pushed back his chair. As he was about to stand, my mother reached for his hand and turned toward me. The eerie calmness of her voice threatened to transport me back in time.

Then I saw the glass of red liquid, a cabernet wine, and I gave myself permission to smile. As a child I never realized the depth of my mother’s self-medication. White wine during the day and red at night: Montague Manor didn’t need clocks. We could tell the time by the color of the drink in my mother’s glass. Occasionally, other names were used: mimosa or sangria. It was all the same. Adelaide Fitzgerald lived her life in a blissful state of serenity because without it, she would have had to face the gruesome reality. She wasn’t strong enough to do that ten years ago. She sure as hell wasn’t strong enough today.

But I was.

“Alexandria, dear…” Her words never slurred. “Didn’t you find the dresses I bought for you?”

“I did. Thank you.” The programmed words weren’t totally insincere. The dress Jane showed me was lovely—for a teenager. “It’s late and I had a few text messages to answer. I know how you like to eat at precisely seven. Seeing that you held dinner for me, I didn’t want to make you wait any longer.”

The text part wasn’t a lie either. I just hadn’t responded to them yet. I wasn’t sure how I wanted to answer Chelsea. I’d messaged her to let her know I’d landed. It was in response to How are you holding up? that rendered me at a loss for words. Since I was someone with a degree in English, words should be my forte.

“Well, it is just us tonight,” she reasoned. “Tomorrow will be different.”

The fork I’d just lifted grew heavy. My hand landed upon the tablecloth with an exasperated sigh. “Tomorrow? Mother, I can’t stay. I have things that need to be done. I have a life.”

“You’re staying until after our meeting on Monday,” Alton replied.

“What meeting?”

Mother pressed her lips into a disapproving straight line toward her husband. “Let’s not get into all of that. We have the whole weekend before we need to worry about that.”

“That what?” I asked again.

A young woman entered from the kitchen with a pitcher of water. Her presence left my question floating unanswered in the air.

“Water, miss?” she asked.

“Yes. I’ll also have a glass of cabernet.”

Her eyes widened and she turned toward Alton. Ever so slightly he nodded.

Asshole. If they planned to keep me trapped in this house for three full days, it would take more than mint chocolate chip ice cream to get me through.

“Leave the bottle,” I said as she poured my glass.

The back of my throat clenched as I sipped the thick liquid. Unquestionably, the wine from the Montague wine cellar was more expensive than what I purchased at the grocery. I savored the dry cedar-wood flavor.

When I had control over my trust fund, I would consider spending more money on my wine. The taste I’d just enjoyed reminded me that it would be money well spent. As I inhaled the fine aroma, a recent memory came back and filled me with warmth.

I’d rather be drinking wine in Del Mar with him than sitting in this stuffy dining room.

“I’m not sure I approve of the way you’ve changed while away at school.” Alton’s words were as dry as the wine.

Lifting my brows, I tilted my head. “I’m not sure I approve of the way things have stayed the same here.”

“Please,” my mother began. “Alexandria, I’m delighted to have you home, if only for a few days. Can you please make an attempt to get along…” She took a long drink from her glass and eyed the bottle. “…for me?”

Alton poured her another glass. I sighed and began to eat my salad. It wasn’t until the main course was served that I remembered our earlier discussion.

“What is happening tomorrow night?”

My mother’s eyes came back to life. “Well, since it’s been so long since you’ve been home, and we need to celebrate your graduation, I’ve invited a few friends over.”

My stomach sank. So much for coming in and getting out of Savannah unnoticed. “A few friends?” I asked.

“Yes. It would’ve been bigger, but this was all done on short notice and as you know, many of our friends vacation this time of year.”

“Most of the people I know work this time of year.”

“Really, Alexandria?” Alton questioned. “How has your job been? Last I heard you were at an expensive spa in Southern California.”

I turned his direction. “Why would you know that? Are you having me followed?”

“No.” The word spewed forth as if the idea was preposterous. “Your mother is still listed on your trust. It’s Ralph’s job to keep us informed.”

“No,” I corrected. “It isn’t. If that’s the way Mr. Hamilton does his business, perhaps I’ll move the trust elsewhere.”

“If you’d read the trust, you’d understand the legalities.”

“I received the trust when I was nine years old. But you’re right. If I’m stuck here for three days, I’ll make a trip to Hamilton and Preston and take a look at it.”

“Because an English major will understand,” Alton said, obviously demeaning my choice of study.

“More so than a child.”

“Please,” my mother implored. “As I said, can we talk about all of this later? Tomorrow, Alexandria, I have plans for us.”

I exhaled. “What plans do we have?” It was clear my time wasn’t my own.

“I thought it would be nice for us to go to the spa.”

I closed my eyes, fighting the memory I’d had as I walked to my room. Careful to avoid Alton’s glare, I plastered my best Montague smile on my face and said, “That sounds lovely, Mother. What time should I be ready?”

“I made our appointment for ten. Then we can go to the tearoom for lunch…”

I smiled dutifully as she went on and on about the changes that had occurred in Savannah since I’d moved. With Alton’s occasional glare in my peripheral vision, I knew the truth. Nothing ever changed—not in Montague Manor and not in Savannah.

“DINNER FROM HELL IS OVER.” I hit send. “I CAN’T LEAVE UNTIL MONDAY EVENING.” I hit send again.

My phone buzzed with Chelsea’s reply. “CAN’T?”

“I TOLD YOU. THIS PLACE IS A PRISON.” I hit send.

Chelsea: “I TOLD YOU THAT YOU SHOULD HAVE TAKEN ME WITH YOU. I KICK ASS AT JAIL BREAKS!”