Queen of Diamonds

Chapter 30

Chapter 30

"Mrs. Snowbanks. First lady to the Mayor of Angelville, Mr. Snowbanks. The frigid duo that dedicates their lives to the town they love. But Mrs. Snowbanks isn't thrilled with Mr. Snowbanks lately and has been seeking solace with the Council President, Aspen Whittaker."

"Well, well, well, Mrs. Snowbanks, you little adulteress you," I absentmindedly said to myself as I read my character description to Andrew's Christmas in July Murder Mystery Extravaganza. I wonder who is assigned Aspen Whittaker? I also wonder why Andrew couldn't give more notice before his party. Barely 24 hours to get a wintery costume idea together in July. Super inconvenient.

Maybe Gram will have something. I abandoned rummaging through the rest of my summer wardrobe I brought with me and went downstairs to ransack Grams closet instead. She's Blanche Lande after all, she has to have something. Something other than robes, I hope.

"Hey, Gram," I said as I entered the brightly lit living room.

"Good morning Avala. How nice of you to grace us with your presence," she greeted me from her tan leather recliner whilst mom sat on the couch next to her with her glasses on and laptop up, working without a doubt. So much for taking a vacation. Meanwhile, Gram had a book in one hand and a mystery beverage in the other. "Or should I say good afternoon," she corrected herself after looking at the clock.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm a teenager what do you want from me?" I retorted, brushing off her good afternoon. "I need your help."

"Oh?" Gram replied intrigued, setting down her thousand-page book. "Boy trouble?"

"No," I groaned. "I said I needed help not advice on how to make fiancé number five not realize he's about to get knocked off for fiancé number six."

"Well, someone is rather testy when they are asking for a favor," Gram grunted taking a sip from her mug as mom stifled a snort but stayed out of it just enjoying the matinée.

"Sorry," I muttered, throwing my hair out of my face into a pony tail. I needed to focus. "I'm just frustrated. I have to go to this stupid party later that I just found out about yesterday and I have no idea what to wear," I exhaled and plopped down on the couch next to mom.

"Hmm, last minute invite to a party?" Gram mused. "Sounds like someone's on the B list," she chuckled, feeling in better spirits being able to zing me back.

"No," I corrected her. "It's a richie thing. They all know when the parties are so invites are like last minute. I don't know. Not the point!" I explained getting more frustrated trying to explain richie antics to a senior citizen. "The point is, I need to dress like a snow queen in July. Can you help?"

"You're going to another party?" my mom chimed in closing her laptop on the coffee table. "And what's a richie thing?" she added, thoroughly confused by the social teen vocabulary I've adapted up here.

"All these kids do is throw parties," I waved her off as if that was a given. "And the richies are Derek's internship friends who have become my friends, one of which is the spawn of your weirdo client secret not boyfriend," I said all in one breath. "Come on, mom. Keep up."

"Sorry," she replied, raising her hands admitting to her adult naiveite. "You've been gone for like two seconds and I don't even know who you are anymore!" she added at an attempt to sound like, well me. "Is that better?"

"Much," I smiled approvingly. "Now, Gram," I said, turning my attention to the sack of potatoes draped in a cheetah robe. "Can you transform me into a snow angel or not?"

"I prefer 'snow vixen'," she countered, "But yes, I have just the thing," she assured me and scurried off into her room.

"So, during the summer you get a break from your prep school friends in the city to come Upstate and now you've made more prep school type friends to hang out with while you're away?" my mother asked, trying to wrap her head around the concept of me escaping the city to find more like minded mongrels that I detest.