Forever Eve

Chapter 2

I enter the dining room exactly half an hour later with renewed confidence, wearing my new Michael Kors Jersey dress and Espadrille wedges. My hair is a bit frizzy, but presentable enough after brushing out the curls from yesterday—the only thing I could do with only a half hour to get ready.

I spot Mrs. Carmichael waving me over. She likes to be called Tippy, though her birth name is Patricia. I think there's a story behind the nickname, but it has never been offered to me, and I haven't asked. If there is anything I've learned about the Carmichaels over the years, it's you don't ask questions, just follow instructions. She's petite with golden blonde hair perfectly coiffed, and she's always so composed in her fitted, designer suits.

"We're over here, darling." She's standing now and waving her linen napkin at me.

Tippy's flare for the over dramatic can be a lot to take at times, but always seems genuine with me. Given that she's a politician's wife, I suspect she needs to be a bit guarded and isn't genuine with most people. When I reach the table, she gives me a gentle hug, air-kissing either side of my cheeks.

"You look lovely, Izabel. Married life certainly agrees with you." Her cordial greeting is accompanied by a full glance up and down my body.

Bo and Mr. Carmichael stand to greet me as well. Bo's dad gives me a clipped "good morning" accompanied by an uncomfortable hug that lasts a few seconds too long. He's always been indifferent toward me. I think he secretly hoped Bo would marry a girl with a more influential family name, like Bush or Reagan.

I sit in my assigned place, and Bo pushes my chair in for me. He leans down and whispers in my ear, "You look gorgeous, Izabel Carmichael." With a subtle brush of my hair to the side, he gently kisses the imprint that remains on my neck from last night's strike.

Instinctively, I tense, but manage a feeble smile. He said he was sorry, Izabel. Just relax.

I appraise the buffet of dishes that have already been delivered to the table. The food is impeccably plated, but my stomach is heavier than a brick. There is juice and coffee, and Tippy has her signature pitcher of her go-to drink in front of her.

"Izabel, darling, let me pour you a drink. They make the perfect Bloody Mary here." She smiles and waves her glass at me.

"No, thank you." I decline as graciously as I can."I'll eat some breakfast first." To make it seem true, I shovel some cantaloupe onto my plate.

Tippy dives in about her latest charitable    and lists the events she'd like me to attend. She once told me, "Darling, a Carmichael lady has to be omnipresent, look opulent, and appear sober at all times."

I turn my attention to the men's conversation when I hear them talking about our honeymoon.

"But we've already discussed this, Dad. These arrangements were made months ago." Bo's face is turning ever so slightly pink.

Mr. Carmichael holds his hand up to interject."Bo, I told you plans might need to change. The agenda over the next few weeks is too important, and your absence will be detrimental to the campaign. We can't allow these Limousine Liberals to get a leg up on us." He pauses and takes a sip of his coffee. "Plus, you kids are young. You have plenty of time to travel."

Not go on our honeymoon? He can't be serious. It isn't fair. He has no right to dictate this too. I hold up my glass and look at Tippy. "On second thought, I'll have that drink now."

Tippy's eyes sparkle and her half grin turns to a beaming smile as she tips the pitcher into my glass. I take two big, unladylike gulps. Wow, this does taste good... She gives me a wink, and I know it's because she recognizes my bridled fury.