Selling Murder House

Chapter 3

In my time at the Larson Group, I had learned to dread the occasional "family dinners." Family dinners took place a few times a year as a "team bonding" activity (as if the Group didn't bond enough), but it was really just an excuse to get together on a Friday night and drink. It was also an excuse for Lilian and Leo to show off their respective homes, which changed as frequently as the seasons. They would trade off the honor of hosting, and I sensed a bit of unfriendly competition between the two on who had the most "wow-factor."

That night's family dinner was to take place at Lilian's new house, where we were promised catering from some restaurant I hadn't heard of but had apparently been featured on the Food Network, and lots and lots of fine wine. Food I couldn't complain about. Wine, however, with the problem, but it also happened to be the solution. The only thing more volatile than getting the Group all in one room was getting the Larson Group drunk in one room. Let me just put it this way: On a good occasion, only one person would storm out in tears. And tonight, that person couldn't be me because my car was in the shop and if I stormed out I'd be hitchhiking home. Not my idea of a dramatic exit.

The other thing I hated about family dinners was the expectation of glamor. All the girls wore something new and designer and shiny. I think I'd worn my statement evening look three times at that point, but based on my laundry situation, it was looking like I'd be continuing that streak.

I squeezed into my faux-leather leggings and threw on a blouse and a leather jacket. It was comfortable enough for me to stuff myself with 5-star food, but chic enough that I wouldn't stand out like a sore thumb in the inevitable group selfies. I topped the look off with a bold burgundy lip color and a heeled bootie.

Sofia came to pick me up. She wore a mid-length blue dress that made her look incredibly tan, and her hair looked professionally blown out. The two of us looked like we were on our way to different parties.

"You look hot," Sofia was kind enough to say by way of greeting. I just laughed.

We sat in comfortable silence as she drove. It had been a long week, one of those weeks that feels like a month, and I could see it in the nearly-invisible lines on Sofia's face too. I thought about her kids, her life outside of work. I wondered how she managed to juggle it all. Maybe someday we'd be close enough friends that I could ask her about that. For now, I was just happy to have someone at the Larson Group I could count on for a ride. It was more than I could've said before.

The house came into view, and Sofia squinted in the distance.

"Is that a fucking mote?" she said, astonished.

Lilian's new house was enormous, and, I saw now, it was indeed flanked by a small body of water that was much too blue to be natural. We parked and walked together toward the front door. The walk-up was flanked on either side with shallow water, with all planters housing perfect pink rose bushes throughout. The overall effect was unreal. I'd never watched it, but this is how I pictured the Bachelor Mansion might look like.

The interior didn't disappoint: everything was black and white and sparkling. The floors were some sort of hard, black stone, polished so clean I could see my reflection in it. The living space was accented with white furniture, and a huge crystal chandelier made everything sparkle, like a high-end disco ball. Tall, uncovered windows brought a blue tone to the room that made me feel like I could breathe deeper. It was absolutely gorgeous.

Lilian greeted us both with kisses on each cheek. When I heard voices rising around the corner, I knew Leo was there with Stassi and maybe Heather. I made a big show of how much I adored her house, which wasn't hyperbolic in context, but maybe a little in delivery. I wanted Leo to hear my praise, as if he really cared what I had to say. I didn't need to see Leo's new house to know I was team Lilian all the way.