“That’s a factor, but a small one,” Kim says with a smile.
“No way!”
“You’ll see I’m right when you’re older.” Kim’s lips twist, but she turns her head so Vi can’t see it.
Somehow I feel like the look on Kim’s face was directed at me. Which is weird. But whatever. I need to not overthink all this and just get through the wedding. The objective is to give Vi the emotional closure she needs, not to obsess about this…weird interaction between me and Kim.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Kim
It takes half an hour longer than expected to reach Corn Meadows, thanks to a small fender bender slowing down the freeway traffic. Not that I mind the delay. The closer we get, the more I have to consciously relax to relieve the tension gathering in my neck and shoulders.
I’ve never wanted to come back to this horrible little place, home to so very, very few decent memories. The only reason my mother, with all her divorce money, even settled here in the first place was because she wanted to be a “person of importance,” as she put it. And that wasn’t going to happen in a big city like New York or Los Angeles.
If it weren’t for the fact that I need to attend the wedding and get Wyatt to sell the statue, I’d never set foot here again. I’ve trashed every letter and brochure from my old high school, including the invitation to the latest reunion. I’ve asked more than once not to have them sent, moved without giving them my new address…but somehow the school finds me again. It’s like a faucet that drips every so often, just enough to drive you crazy, but not seriously enough to call a plumber.
But then, nothing is logical and sane when you’re dealing with Corn Meadows. Even the town’s name is ridiculous. No one grows corn here. The soil apparently isn’t right for it, but the founders thought they could, and named the town after the crop they wanted to raise. If they’d been pecan farmers, the place would’ve probably been called Nutdale.
Nothing much has changed. Still the same old streets with the same old stores, like all the multinational conglomerates somehow missed Corn Meadows during their quest to build big-box stores in every town in America. Or maybe they thought it was too small to bother with. Either way, it feels weird, like I’ve been thrown a couple of decades back.
Maybe people are different now. As in, learned to mind their own business.
Hopefully. Ideally. I pray for that, even though part of me doubts that particular aspect of Corn Meadows has changed. The place doesn’t even have a McDonald’s. People are going to need some form of entertainment, and nothing entertains like gossip. It’s free and in endless supply.
My phone pings. A text from Mom.
–Mom: OMG! I saw a picture of you and Wyatt in a brand-new Audi! Are you in town right now? I can’t believe I’m in NY and going to miss it!
Oh, thank God she’s in New York. I purposely didn’t tell her about this visit because I knew exactly what she’d do. The last thing I want is for her to embarrass me in front of Wyatt, going on and on about how I need to marry him before my boobs deflate, because he’s rich. And Vi! The poor kid’s already going through the pain of her own mother’s gold digging. She doesn’t need to wonder if I’m around for the same reason, especially since it isn’t true. And I’ll be damned if I let anybody, especially Wyatt, think I’m into moneyed men the way my mother is. It’s a matter of pride.
My phone pings again. This time Mom forwards me the picture. From the background, it’s obvious it was taken maybe ten minutes ago. Gossipmongers move at 4G speed. Shouldn’t Corn Meadows get fast food before fast Internet?
–Mom: This is so exciting!
–Mom: Look how wonderful you look in that car! People will hardly recognize you! I had to tag you on the photo so they’d know! I’m so proud of you!
She’s only proud because I look good. And I’m in a car with a billionaire who is currently unattached. She hasn’t gotten to that yet, but she will if I give her enough time. I really hope she’ll disappoint me on this point, but I have a feeling she won’t.
–Mom: Did you take an Audi because there’s a child in the back?
–Mom: Next time, come in a Ferrari! Or a Maserati or Lamborghini! Italian sports cars are the best!
–Mom: On the other hand, I’ve always thought Bentleys were very dignified and upscale. Does Wyatt have one?
–Mom: He’s single. A billionaire! Grab him before it’s too late. He even has a child. It’s like getting a ready-made family without the stretch marks. You do realize that sort of thing devalues a woman, don’t you?
–Mom: You aren’t as young as used to be! This is your chance!
The more she texts, the more bitterness fills my mouth. I feel my face twist. Not a single word of concern or worry. She knows Wyatt and I broke up years ago. She knows I was hurt, even though I never told her the exact details. She could at least ask if Wyatt is a better person now, or if he ever apologized for dumping me like that for Geneva. And Vi is not some mail-order kid I’m going to pick up to suit her inane fantasy of having a child without loose belly skin. The whole idea is gross, and the fact that my mother ever even thought it makes me more embarrassed and resentful. How come she’s the one who says shameless things, and I’m the one who has to suffer the humiliation?
My silence must be spiking her anxiety. My phone rings, seeming louder than normal. I hit the red button.
It rings again. Maybe I should take out the battery.
“Go ahead,” Wyatt says. “Sounds like it’s urgent.”
“It isn’t.” I put the phone on silent mode and smile.