Peaches

“Yeah. I was wondering if Leeda was back yet.”
    “Nope.” Murphy frowned. He wasn’t going anywhere.
    “Rex?”
    “Yep, sorry.” He turned his back to her so that she had a view of his sunburned neck as she moved around the corner of the dorm. The water was still running behind her, but she was focused on that neck, that head of his, wondering what was going through it.
    Murphy pulled her T-shirt on tight, crossing her arms over her chest again. For a moment she felt wide open, and it was an achy, horrible feeling. Murphy searched herself for some reliable emotion to tackle this strange, unsteady one. She knew there was a reason she could find to be angry. And it took only a fraction of a second to find it.
    Rex had been watching her. Like any other guy would have.
    The open spot in the inside of her chest closed with a snap, and the anger settled over her like a fog. Rex was like every other guy. In the end, that was it. He was the same as anybody else.
    Murphy breathed a sigh of relief. It felt good to be let down.

    Compared to the heat and dirt of the orchard, the inside of Breezy Buds Plantation, the Cawley-Smiths’ mansion, felt pristine and deliciously crisp and cool. Leeda laid her sunglasses down on the banister and looked around. She had never looked so disheveled—her Sweetee shirt was unbuttoned at the bottom; her shorts hung slackly off her hips. “Mom?”
    “Did you tell them what time you’d be here?” Birdie asked.
    Leeda nodded, not surprised but hurt all the same. She hadn’t seen her mother in three weeks.
    She sighed. She wanted to look for her mom, but she didn’tthink she should have to. “I’m gonna take a shower. Meet you at the pool?”
    Birdie started toward the back of the house.
    Upstairs in her bedroom, Leeda basked in the pleasure of her own bathroom and all the good smells of her soaps and shampoo. When she emerged, surrounded by a cloud of steam, after an incredibly long shower, she slipped into her favorite pink, low-hipped bikini and wrapped a towel around her waist. A pile of mail was scattered on her bureau, and she sifted through it—a bunch of magazine subscriptions she wanted to renew, a few outfits she’d ordered from girlshop.com. A thick, square envelope was at the bottom of the pile. It was addressed To Miss Leeda Cawley-Smith in black calligraphy.
    Leeda slid her finger through the seal and opened it, pulling out a card wrapped in tissue paper. It smelled like lilacs and had lilac petals stamped into the card stock. It was Leeda’s invitation to the wedding.
    She walked downstairs into the family’s huge living room, then the parlor, then out onto the grass. The pool was large and completely square, with a rock wall built into the back of it, which cascaded a steady, clear stream of water into the pool. The patio was large and Italian tiled and glowing in the sun. There, stretched out on their stomachs, were Mrs. Cawley-Smith, Danay, and Birdie.
    Birdie had pulled her recliner a little to the side, closer to the pool. She was dripping wet and drinking a Diet Coke, and she smiled at Leeda as she came out. Mrs. Cawley-Smith and Danay had their faces turned toward each other and their sunglasses on. Danay was topless.
    Sometimes Leeda was stunned at how perfect her sisterwas. And how much she and their mom looked alike. Lying side by side, they looked like a before and after of the same woman.
    Leeda tugged on her bikini bottom and dragged a chair up to the pool.
    “Are we allowed to go nude at the pool now?”
    “I need an even tan for my dress. It’s backless,” Danay mumbled, not moving an inch except for her lips. Leeda hadn’t even known she’d gotten a dress yet. Wasn’t the maid of honor supposed to know these things?
    “What about lunch?”
    Leeda’s mom scratched an itch at her waist. “I’m sorry, honey. We got hungry. You and Birdie tell Lydia what you want the next time she comes up.”
    Leeda clenched her teeth. She sank back on her chair and looked at Birdie, who shrugged at her. She hated how hurt she felt. But she was above saying it. She turned to her sister and said airily, “I got my invitation. You forgot to add the ‘and guest.’”
    “What do you mean?” Danay lifted her head slightly.
    “Well, for my date.”
    Danay sank back down flat in an “is that all” gesture. “Lee, it’s a small wedding. A lot of people aren’t bringing dates. Unless they’re married or engaged.”
    Leeda felt her heart sinking.