Little angry goblin drummers had taken up residence inside my head. At least that what it felt like from the throbbing. Mercifully, my stomach didn’t twist itself into knots. It’d been a long time since I’d had a hangover, but not long enough that I didn’t know what was going on.
Two years. That’s the last time I’d drank that much. It was right after my divorce.
I blinked my eyes slowly open. My heart kicked up as I saw I wasn’t in my own bed, but then I realized I was in my old room at my house. I was still in my dress, but I was underneath a blanket and on top of the quilt.
Juniper peacefully snoozed beside me. She was wearing some pajamas I didn’t recognize. Mama must have had some sitting around just in case.
Just in case what? I couldn’t remember most of the previous night. I sat up slowly and rubbed my temples. The pounding in my head wasn’t helping me figure out what the heck had happened. My head had gone through worse in the past, but that didn’t help me much with ignoring the pain.
I took several deep breaths, trying to push back to my last clear memory. I recalled Lionel being a bastard, and then I remembered downing a lot of champagne. A soft groan escaped my lips. Of course that cheating bastard would be the cause of this mess.
Leaning over, I gave Juniper a little squeeze and kissed her on the forehead. I smiled down at my little angel, happy she’d remained untouched by all this ugliness. Children needed to be protect
ed from wickedness, so I’d shielded her from the details of why we couldn’t live with her daddy anymore. Even though it hurt, it was the right thing to do.
I slowly scooted off the bed, my stomach tightening, more out of embarrassment than because of my hangover.
It’d been a long time since I’d gotten so drunk. After all, I had a little girl to worry about, and if I wasn’t in Mama’s house, I wouldn’t have dared. I don’t even know if I would have done such a thing at my own house. Here, though, I knew Juniper had at least one other person who loved her.
Not that it was an excuse. I let out a long sigh, not bothering to put on my shoes, which lay near the doorway. Shame filled me. The ugly truth was I’d gotten falling-down drunk at Mama’s special event. I only hoped I hadn’t done anything too stupid or destructive. If I went downstairs and Mama gave me the tongue lashing of all tongue lashings, I’d have it coming, and the only thing I’d be able to do is beg for her forgiveness.
My face hot, I crept down the stairs and made my way to the kitchen. Bella stood near the sink, doing some dishes.
She offered me a polite smile, though her eyes held some concern. “Have are you feeling, Emily?”
“About as well as expected,” I said, rubbing my forehead.
“There’s some lemonade, tea, and fruit in the parlor,” she said. “That should help.”
“Did I…” I trailed off with a sigh. No reason to make Bella deliver the bad news. “Never mind. Where’s Mama?”
“Mrs. Jolie is also in the parlor, Emily.”
“Thank you.”
I fought down a groan as I turned to trudge toward the parlor. I prayed Mama would at least just use cutting words instead of yelling. My head couldn’t take loud noises. I tried to think about how I might make it up to her.
I glanced down at my clothes. My rumpled dress brought new meaning to the term hot mess. I could only imagine what my hair and face must look like. It didn’t matter. I had other reasons to be embarrassed, and I figured it was kind of like a Band-Aid. Sometimes it was best to tear it off quickly.
Stepping into the parlor, I spotted Mama. She sat at her Sevier table sipping tea, a plate filled with apple slices in front of her. She looked up at me and smiled.
The look sent shivers through my body. A frown, a glare, or even a cold look I could take, but Mama smiling after I got wasted at a society party? I couldn’t begin to guess what sort of harshness she was about to visit on me. I wondered what my pastor would say if I prayed to God to protect me from Mama’s wrath.
I slipped into a chair and poured myself a glass of lemonade. Mama didn’t say anything. Instead, she just watched me, that strangely warm smile on her face like I was the most delightful thing she’d seen all morning.
One didn’t try to understand the mind of Sally Jolie. A Southern society lady like herself was not to be trifled with. She combined the tenacity of a shark with the elegance of a flower.
“I’m sorry, Mama,” I said. Might as well get it over with. I was in the wrong, no reason to dance around it.
“You’re sorry?”
“Yes, I’m sorry?”
“Whatever for, dear?”
“For getting drunk at your fundraiser and ruining it.”
“Oh, you didn’t ruin a thing.” She laughed quietly. “And lots of people get drunk at fundraisers.” She winked. “It’s part of the plan, really. Drunk donors are generous donors. Every fundraiser we run that doesn’t have alcohol, oh, I think we make half as much.”