City Secrets Read Online Free Page B

gulped and my palms started sweating.
    â€œLet’s go,” Heather said. “It’s time for dinner with the Foxes.”
    I followed Heather out of her bedroom and to the massive dining room. A giant chandelier hung above the table. Placemats, silverware, empty glasses, cloth napkins, and china plates were already on the table. Heather sat in one of the high-backed chairs. I took a seat next to her and looked down. There was a soup bowl, a small plate, and a dinner plate underneath. But beside the plate were more forks, knives, and spoons than I’d ever seen.
    â€œAre these all for me?” I whispered to Heather, even though no one else was in the room.
    Heather leaned over. “Start from the outside. Forks—salad, dinner, dessert.” She pointed to each one on the left side of my plate. “Soup, dinner spoon, and the knife is obvious.”
    â€œI’m never going to remember that!” I tried to fight back the panicky feeling in my chest.
    â€œJust watch me.”
    Heather looked away when Mrs. Fox walked into thedining room. She sat across from Heather and stared at both of us. I was sure her eyes lingered on my—well, Heather’s—dress for a second, but she didn’t say anything.
    Heather reached for her napkin and smoothed it onto her lap. Copying her, I did the same.
    I felt like I could hear my own heartbeat in the silence. I looked up in relief when one of the staff walked into the room. She wore a black skirt and a starched white shirt. Her dark brown hair was back in a tight bun.
    â€œMrs. Fox,” said the woman. “Would you like to begin with soup and salad?”
    Mrs. Fox looked up at the woman and shook her head. “Are you not able to follow simple instructions, Helen?”
    Helen seemed to shrink a little and she bowed her head.
    â€œI’m sorry, Mrs. Fox. I didn’t want your dinner to be late and—”
    Mrs. Fox waved her hand, the massive diamond ring on her finger sparkling in the light. “I don’t want to hear excuses, nor do I have time for them. I specifically told you to begin serving when my husband arrives.”
    Whhhoooa.
    Mrs. Fox wasn’t even talking to me and
I
was scared! Ialmost couldn’t believe what I’d just heard. I felt a rush of sympathy for Helen. I couldn’t imagine speaking like that to anyone—ever!
    Helen, red-faced, disappeared into the kitchen.
    I shot a look at Heather and she stared at her empty soup bowl, her face pink. If that’s how her mother acted when there was a guest in the house, I didn’t even want to imagine how she treated the staff when no one was around.
    â€œI hope it’s now clear to everyone,” Mrs. Fox said, “that we’ll be waiting for Mr. Fox. He’s likely caught in traffic, but should be arriving soon.”
    Heather and I didn’t say anything. We kept our eyes down.
    I shifted in my seat, knowing the sophisticated thing to do would be to engage Mrs. Fox in conversation about something like . . . art? Or opera? But I didn’t know much (read: anything) about those. Or, at least, not much beyond van Gogh and
The Phantom of the Opera
—the movie version.
    â€œWhatever scent’s coming from the kitchen smells amazing,” I said. “What are we having?”
    Mrs. Fox turned her gaze to me. She had the same blue eyes as Heather, but unlike her daughter’s, the iciness never melted.
    â€œI think we can wait to discuss dinner until Mr. Fox arrives,” Mrs. Fox said. I blushed and sank into my chair. She looked away from me and stared at the giant wall clock. It was almost seven. Mrs. Fox turned back to me and I wondered why I’d ever opened my mouth. I placed my elbow on the table, then whipped it off, hoping Mrs. Fox hadn’t seen me.
    â€œDo you plan on taking advantage of Canterwood’s etiquette classes?” Mrs. Fox asked me. “When I attended the institution, I led