Torment - Lauren Kate [107]
Luce shrugged as the waiters reappeared to clear the plates.
“His ex-wife had angel lineage, but after the divorce he shifted some of his alliances. Still”—Francesca glanced at Steven—“a very good person to know. Oh, hello, Ms. Fisher! How nice of you to come.”
“Yes, hello.” An elderly woman with an affected British accent, a bulky mink coat, and more diamonds around her neck than Luce had ever seen before extended a white-gloved hand to Steven, who stood up to greet her. Francesca rose too, leaning forward to greet the woman with a kiss on either cheek. “Where’s my Miles?” the woman asked.
Luce jumped up. “Oh, you must be Miles’s … grandmother?”
“Good heavens, no.” The woman recoiled. “Don’t have children, never married, boo-hoo-hoo. I am Ms. Ginger Fisher, from the NorCal branch of the family tree. Miles is my great-nephew. And you are?”
“Lucinda Price.”
“Lucinda Price, yes.” Ms. Fisher looked down her nose at Luce, squinting. “Read about you in one or another of the histories. Though I can’t recall what it was exactly that you did—”
Before Luce could respond, Steven’s hands were on her shoulders. “Luce is one of our newest students,” he boomed. “You’ll be happy to know that Miles has really gone out of his way to make her feel comfortable here.”
Ms. Fisher’s squinty eyes were already looking past them, searching the crowded lawn. The guests had mostly finished eating, and now Shelby was lighting the tiki torches staked into the ground. When the torch closest to the head table grew bright, it illuminated Miles, leaning over the next table to clear away some plates.
“Is that my grand-nephew—waiting tables?” Ms. Fisher pressed a gloved hand to her forehead.
“Actually,” Shelby said, butting into the conversation, the torch lighter in one hand, “he’s the trash—”
“Shelby.” Francesca cut her off. “I think that tiki torch near the Nephilim tables has just burned out. Could you fix it? Now?”
“You know what?” Luce said to Ms. Fisher. “I’ll go get Miles and bring him over. You must be eager to catch up.”
Miles had traded in the Dodgers cap and sweatshirt for a pair of brown tweed slacks and a bright orange button-down shirt. Kind of a bold choice, but it looked good.
“Hey!” He waved her over with the hand that wasn’t balancing a stack of dirty plates. Miles didn’t seem to mind busing tables. He was grinning, in his element, chatting with everyone at the banquet as he cleared their plates.
When Luce approached, he put the plates down and gave her a big hug, squeezing her closer at the end.
“Are you okay?” he asked, tilting his head to one side so that his brown hair flopped over his eyes. He didn’t seem used to the way his hair moved without his cap on, and he flicked it quickly back. “You don’t look so good. I mean—you look great, that’s not what I meant. At all. I really like that dress. And your hair looks pretty. But you also look kind of”—he frowned—“down.”
“That’s disturbing.” Luce kicked the grass with the toe of her black high heel. “Because this is the best I’ve felt all night.”
“Really?” Miles’s face lit up just long enough for him to take it as a compliment. Then it fell. “I know it must suck being grounded. If you ask me, Frankie and Steven are blowing this way out of proportion. Keeping you under their thumbs all night—”
“I know.”
“Don’t look now, I’m sure they’re watching us. Oh, great.” He groaned. “Is that my aunt Ginger?”
“I just had the pleasure.” Luce laughed. “She wants to see you.”
“I’m sure she does. Please don’t think all my relatives are like her. When you meet the rest of the clan at Thanksgiving—”
Thanksgiving with Miles. Luce had completely forgotten about that.
“Oh.” Miles was watching her face. “You don’t think Frankie and Steven are going to make you stay here on Thanksgiving?”
Luce shrugged. “I figured that was what ‘until further notice’ meant.”
“So that’s what’s making you sad.” He put a hand on Luce’s bare shoulder. She’d been regretting the sleeveless dress until now, until his fingers lay across her skin. It was nothing like Daniel’s touch—which was electrifying and