Now it was New Year's, and she sat at the dining room table with Max and his parents, who had introduced themselves as Mr. and Mrs. Holloway. He had a six-year-old brother who had eaten earlier, and she hadn't met him yet.
She'd hoped they wouldn't be the Mr. and Mrs. type and more the first-name type who'd joke around and tell her she was so pretty and she could just be charming with them. She could do that. But these parents were like her parents. And her parents didn't approve of her at all, and seemed not to find her charming.
That was it. She'd be the person she knew her parents wished she had been. All she needed to do was say the opposite of what she really felt.
After a few pleasantries and most of the meal, Mrs. Holloway laid down her fork and asked, "So, Rebecca, what brought you to Manderley?"
"Public school got to be too much, I suppose." She dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. "The people there were just not the type that I like to surround myself with."
Or she didn't like who she had become there. Either or.
Mrs. Holloway nodded. "That is a big problem in public schools these days. That's why we just had to send Maxwell to Manderley."
Becca nodded. "I'm so glad you did." She looked across to Max with a smile. He gave a small smile back.
More silence.
"What do you like to do, Rebecca?" Mr. Holloway asked.
She hated when people asked her this kind of question. She didn't really have any hobbies or anything. "Um...I used to horseback ride when I was little. And now...I don't know, I guess I hang out with my friends?" She shrugged.
Max's parents exchanged a quick glance.
"And your father is Mason Normandy of Normandy and Associates, is he?"
"Yes."
"My brother went to school at Yale with your father. I mentioned that Max was going to have a friend come to visit, and when I said your name, his first question was if you were Mason's daughter."
"Fancy that," she said with a convincing smile. That was not fancy, that was awful. She didn't want their parents meeting or talking or anything. Her two worlds could not combine.
"Do you plan on going into law yourself?"
God no. "Maybe, but I'm not sure yet. I'm not tying myself down to any decisions yet."
Mrs. Holloway piped up again. "Do you have any idea what you would like to do?"
Becca took a moment to read Mrs. Holloway. "I'm very interested in volunteering at charity organizations."
She'd never volunteered to do anything unpleasant in her life. Her most concrete plan was to marry rich. And judging by the expanse of this house, Max was a perfect candidate.
"That's very honorable. I'm involved in some myself." Mrs. Holloway sipped her wine. "I find it very fulfilling."
How could anyone find that fulfilling? But who cared, the parents were totally eating up her lies.
"Max, you're awfully quiet," said Becca.
"I'm just letting you all get to know each other."
"He's so polite, don't you think?" She looked from Mr. to Mrs. Holloway. "You're never this quiet at school. Especially on the weekends."
Max's gaze lurched to her. She knew things about him she could spill if she wanted to. He knew that.
"The weekends?" Mrs. Holloway looked curiously at her son.
"She means when we all hang out and aren't in class. Have to be quiet in class."
"Oh, that's not all I mean!" She smiled at him. "You can get pretty rowdy at our parties."
"Parties?" asked Mrs. Holloway.
She could see a stab of panic behind his eyes. It's not like he really ever did anything wrong, but if his parents were anything like hers, they wouldn't want to hear about association with anyone that they might consider to be a bad influence. Except, at this point, Becca's parents knew she was the bad influence.
Becca had come to Max's with the intention of solidifying their relationship. Clearly going home with him was a step in the direction of staying together. But suddenly she didn't care anymore.
"I don't get 'rowdy.'"
"Sure you do! Remember that time-oh, that's probably not good table talk."
"Go on." Mr. Holloway looked stern.
"Well, I don't really know too much. I don't drink or do drugs or anything, so I usually leave early."
"Are you implying that Max does?" Mr. Holloway asked. His wife was silent, looking wide-eyed at whoever spoke.
Becca waved a hand. "Of course not." She sounded as unconvincing as she could.
Max was staring daggers at her, but she ignored it, and took a bite of her mashed potatoes. "These potatoes are so great."
"Good, I'm glad you enjoyed them. If you'll excuse me." Mrs. Holloway stood and walked out of the room looking a little emotional.
Mr. Holloway followed her without saying a word.
Becca finally locked eyes with Max.
"What's the matter with you?" His voice was low and quiet.
"You had better stay with me or I'll tell them everything."
He shook his head in disbelief. "Go right ahead."
"You have to stay with me. I'll tell Dr. Morgan, the headmaster and your parents that I'm concerned about you and your abusive tendencies, your drug use and your drinking. Let's not forget you practically raped me."
She raised her voice on the last two words, and he shushed her quickly. She immediately felt guilty.
"Just stop. You're not freaking me out in the way you're hoping to, Becca. I'm okay with losing you, but I don't need you to lie to my parents on the way there."
She threw her napkin on her plate, infuriated by his condescension. "I've been at this school one semester and I've already got everyone under my thumb."
"So?"
The question hung in the air. Becca didn't have an answer. Nothing besides, because I hoped it would make me happy.
"Max, come here." Mr. Holloway's voice was low and resonating, and without shouting he managed to be heard startlingly from another room.
Max stood. "You're insane, you know that?"
"Ha!" She crossed her arms in an effort to look stronger than she felt. "That's not what everyone else will think!"
He left the room, looking kind of hot all mad like that. A moment later she could just barely hear the muffled conversation he was having with his parents behind a closed door down the hall.
She tiptoed toward the sound, and tried to hear.
"What are you doing?"
Becca jumped, and turned to see the small figure of what must be Max's little brother. "Shh."
"Why?"
She spoke through gritted teeth. "Can you just hush?"
She tried to listen again, but all she could hear were the low, resonating tones of firm-sounding adult voices.
"Are you eavesdropping?"
"Shh!" She pulled the little boy back into the dining room by his arm.
"Ouch!" he whined, wrenching his arm away. "Stop it!"
Panic rose in her chest. "Quiet! You can't tell them I was listening."
"I'm going to!" He started to run from her but she grabbed the back of his shirt.
"Stop, Nick!" That was his name, right?
He was pulling away from her. She thought quickly. The next thing either of them knew, she had tipped a delicate-looking vase off a pedestal by the door, and it shattered into a million little pieces on the hardwood floor.
"Oh, no, Nick!" She elevated her voice. In a few seconds, the other Holloways appeared on the scene.
Mrs. Holloway gasped and emitted a tiny whimper.
Mr. Holloway looked to Becca. "What happened?"
"She did it!" Nick pointed desperately at her, tears welling in his eyes.
Becca shook her head with a pitying smile at Nick. "No, we had just met and Nick said he wanted to play. The next minute, he had run into the vase."
"She pulled on my arm!"
"I tried to stop him in time, but I just couldn't!" This time Max was looking directly at her, but she refused to look back. "I'm so sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Holloway."
She hung her head, fake worry etched in every feature of her face.
"It's all right. Nick, go straight to your room and stay there. You're not having Michael over tomorrow night."
"But, Dad-"
"Your mother bought that vase in Germany when she was a teenager. You've been told before to be careful, and you continue to roughhouse. There is no excuse. Upstairs. Now."
"I should have kept a better eye." Becca looked earnestly at Mr. Holloway.
He put a hand up. "Rebecca, you don't need to apologize again."
"Okay." She nodded.
"We're going outside," said Max, taking Becca by the waist.
He led her to the backyard.
"It's freezing, what are we doing out here?" She was wearing a skimpy black dress.
"I'm done with you. And I'd like to have this conversation away from my family. You've already treated them to enough of my personal life tonight."
"I know. I just don't know how to keep you, Max!"
"Did you think blackmailing me was really going to do that?"
"It's not! I realize that. It's just that I feel you slipping away...you're only with me because you feel guilty."
He raised his eyebrows. "I have not been with you for that reason. And I don't intend to. So just stop."
"Then why, Max?" Tears were in her eyes. "Why would you be with me?"
"I'm not doing this with you." He paused. "When's your flight?"
She stared back at him, her eyes wide and her heart pounding. She'd gone too far. She was going to lose him now. She considered standing here and fighting, but she didn't want to. Not only would it end in more humiliation, but if they didn't get back together, she'd be...free. To be with whomever she wanted....
"I'll change it to tomorrow morning."
He sighed. "I'm sorry, Becca."
"No. You're not."
She went inside, stormed up to the guest room, and stayed there for the rest of New Year's Eve.
Facebook relationship status: Single. Status update: I'm sorry it had to end. But it did.
Pfft.