Hannah checked her lipstick one more time in the rearview mirror. Satisfied there weren’t any smudges, she opened the door to her Jeep Wrangler and stepped out carefully onto the cobbled driveway. She blew out a relieved breath when she was standing with both heels successfully planted on the ground. She hated wearing high heels, and it was a dangerous endeavor when her ankle was so wobbly, but she didn’t dare wear flats. She’d made that mistake only once, and the resulting lecture still made her shudder.

She looked up, taking in the palatial residence she grew up in. It had all the warmth of a block of ice, not unlike her mother, actually. Large and imposing, the stone structure was nothing short of ostentatious. All the homes in her parents’ gated community were, but she’d always thought this one was the worst.

Eagle Creek was a small town, humble and unassuming in most ways, with the exception of the ‘elite’ few. It was embarrassing, really. She’d secretly longed to live in one of the smaller, quainter homes when she was growing up. Something like the MacKeltar’s farmhouse. It might be a tad rundown now, but it was more welcoming than this cold mansion could ever hope to be.

Chiding herself for stalling, Hannah carefully made her way to the large double front doors. She rang the doorbell, unsurprised when a maid opened it almost immediately. Gloria Vanderguard didn’t tolerate anything less than perfection in her hired help, and her reputation for it was known far and wide in the community. An astonishing amount of sacked hired help assured it.

She handed the maid her coat and purse, thanking her quietly.

“Hannah, how many times must I tell you we don’t thank the help? They’re doing what they’re paid for. They don’t require thanks.”

Hannah suppressed a sigh and plastered a smile on her face, turning to face her mother. Gloria was headed toward her, heels clicking on the marble floor, with her perpetually sour expression firmly in place. Her mother would have been a beautiful woman if she didn’t always look like she was sucking on a lemon. Or maybe it was more like she looked constipated. Yeah, that was probably a better description.

Hannah inwardly giggled like a twelve-year-old over that thought. “Of course. Sorry, Mother,” she murmured, while giving her mother the air kisses she required.

“Don’t be sorry. Just stop doing it.”

Gloria turned on her heel and walked to the living room and Hannah followed dutifully. Her mother was done up to the nines, as usual, looking more like she was going to a dinner party with royalty rather than just having dinner with her family. Hannah couldn’t remember a time when her mother wasn’t in a dress and heels, dripping with diamond jewelry. She was just surprised she wasn’t wearing a tiara, although she was sure if Gloria thought she could get away with one, it would be fixed permanently to the top of her perfectly coiffed head.

“Take a seat. White wine?” Gloria turned to the drink cart without waiting for a reply and began pouring the wine.

What Hannah wouldn’t give to tell her mother she’d rather have a beer. She was sure it would have caused a vein to pop up on her mother’s forehead, and a dark scowl to mar her face. If her mother hadn’t been Botoxed within an inch of her life, that is.

Gloria handed her a wine glass before taking her own seat. She studied Hannah, and Hannah was sure if her mother were physically capable of frowning, she’d be doing so now.

“What are you wearing, Hannah? I’m sure you have more appropriate clothing than that.”

Hannah’s eyebrows twitched as she looked down at herself, wondering what was wrong with her ensemble this time. She was wearing a classic, simple black dress, understated jewelry, and the obligatory heels. She knew better than to argue, though.

“I’m sorry, Mother. I’ll wear something more appropriate next time.”

Gloria sniffed. “You do that. I swear, I don’t know what goes through that blonde head of yours sometimes, Hannah. You don’t think things through. Try to use that degree your father and I bought you for something other than a wall decoration.”

Hannah stiffened and quickly took a sip of her wine before she said something that resulted in a two-hour lecture. She forced herself to nod, looking down at her glass. Her family name might have had something to do with her quick acceptance into UCLA, but it was her hard work that had gotten her business management degree. Trying to convince her parents of that would be pointless, though.

Actually, she had tried telling them that once. It was the responding laughter and “poor, blonde Hannah” remarks that kept her from mentioning it again.

“Are you still working at that clinic?”

“Yes, I am,” she replied, refusing to acknowledge the disdain in her mother’s voice.

She worked at an obstetrician’s office, and it was a great job. Her mother made it sound like she shoveled manure for a living, but then again, any job would have provoked that reaction. In her mother’s world, women didn’t work, period. They found rich husbands to support them.

In fact, she was sure a lecture on the subject would be coming at any moment, and Hannah silently counted down in her head. Three, two, one…

“You shouldn’t be working, anyway. We groomed you for better. Women from our family, women in our exalted positions within the community, do not work. We support our husbands, we hold charity dinners, we raise children. We don’t lower ourselves to be public servants. Your father and I didn’t send you to that college to get an education, Hannah. We sent you there to make new contacts, to hopefully find a husband. You couldn’t even manage that, although why I’m surprised, I’ll never know.”

Hannah resisted rolling her eyes, although it was close. This was nothing she hadn’t heard before. She could basically recite it by heart, but she knew better than to react. And if she knew her mother, she would say more, and get nastier as she went.

“You really should leave that job. You have a trust fund. Even if you don’t find a husband soon, you don’t need to work. I’m not entirely sure how you even managed to land the job in the first place, but I’m sure it’s just a matter of time before you screw it up and embarrass the family name. You’re not very smart, Hannah, and although intelligence isn’t required in a wife, that shortage is only going to get you fired soon. Really, I’m only surprised it hasn’t happened already. You need to resign and spare us all the embarrassment.”

And there it was. Heat filled Hannah’s cheeks as she cast her gaze down, studying the expensive rug under her feet. What her mother was saying wasn’t anything she hadn’t heard before. She even knew it was true, although she didn’t think she was quite as dumb as her mother made her out to be. But school had always been incredibly hard for her, and she’d had to work three times as hard as the other students around her. And it definitely wasn’t unheard of for things people said to go over her head.

She’d been called a dumb blonde more times than she could count, and while the words still sometimes had the power to cut deep—in her mind, she knew they were true.

She could do her job, though. She had confidence in that. She was the office manager, and she was good at what she did. It was all about organization, and it didn’t take being really smart to keep herself and others organized and on track.

Her father walked in the living room, murmuring a greeting, and headed straight to the drink cart. Hannah’s spine slumped in relief over not having to either agree with her mother or argue with her, but she quickly straightened back up before her mother could notice that she wasn’t sitting perfectly straight.

“Did you tell Hannah the good news, dear?” Marshall asked his wife as he took a seat next to her on the couch.

Dread filled Hannah. Their idea of good news never boded well for her.

“I was waiting on you,” Gloria answered.

“I’ve decided I’m going to run for office,” her father told her, taking a sip of his scotch. “I’ll start off slow and run for mayor here in Eagle Creek, but my goal is to be a senator. I’ve already informed the law firm that I’ll only be representing the most prestigious cases from here on out. Not only to boost my presence and reputation, of course, but to free up some time to campaign.”

“Congratulations,” Hannah told her father, the word coming out more like a question than a statement.

“This is why it’s imperative that our reputations be clean and upstanding. Sit up straight, Hannah. A Vanderguard woman doesn’t work, as I said. And a Vanderguard definitely doesn’t get fired. We really do think it best if you resign from your position,” Gloria repeated firmly.

“But I like my job. I don’t want to quit.” Hannah closed her eyes as the words slipped out. She should have just nodded like she agreed, even though she had no intention of quitting.

“We all have to do things we don’t like, young lady,” her father replied sternly.

“You have to think of your father’s career. How would it look if his daughter were fired for being incompetent? We all know that’s where your ‘career’ is heading. This is his dream, and it’s far more important than this little lark of yours.”

What about my dreams?

Hannah knew better than to say that out loud, but she couldn’t help saying it in her head. She knew exactly what they’d say if she were foolish enough to ask it out loud. The only thing Hannah was good for to them was marrying into another rich family and furthering her parents’ connections.

“We’ve also heard some disturbing rumors, Hannah,” Marshall said with a deepening frown on his face. “Is it true you’ve been spending time with the MacKeltars? Going to that pathetic excuse for a farm?”

Hannah felt her mouth opening and closing, but she couldn’t make herself speak. It’s not like she’d been hiding who she was friends with or where she spent her time, but she couldn’t imagine how her parents had even found out about it. They didn’t exactly run in the same circles as the MacKeltars.

“Oh, for God’s sake, stop making such an unattractive face. You’d be such a beautiful girl if you learned to control your expressions,” Gloria scolded. “You never see me making faces like that.”

Yeah, because Gloria had so much Botox injected into her face she probably couldn’t even feel it anymore, much less move it.

“We shouldn’t have to tell you that those aren’t the type of people we associate with,” Marshall continued. “You will end contact with them immediately.”

Hannah clenched her jaw, trying to avoid her mouth popping open again at her father’s order. She couldn’t believe he was serious right now. And she couldn’t understand how he thought her being friends with the MacKeltars could be a bad thing. He’d said he wanted to start his political career by becoming mayor of Eagle Creek. The overwhelming majority of residents were farmers and ranchers, just like the MacKeltars. Families like hers were the rarity, not the norm.

“Parker and Kelsey are my friends,” Hannah said between gritted teeth, unable to hold the words in.

“You’re so much better than those two,” Gloria said with a long-suffering sigh. “Whatever happened to Wendy? You two were such good friends, but we never see her anymore. Now, she’s the perfect companion.”

Hannah suppressed a shudder at the mention of Wendy Hargrove. Wendy was a horrible person who delighted in tormenting others. Which, come to think of it, explained how her mother thought she was the perfect friend. They had a lot in common, those two.

And, if she were being perfectly honest with herself, it wasn’t too long ago when Hannah had followed Wendy around like an abandoned puppy, following her lead and being just as nasty to people as Wendy was. Something she didn’t think she’d ever stop feeling ashamed of.

“We just don’t talk much anymore, Mother,” Hannah settled on saying.

“Rectify that,” her mother snapped. “Now, while we’re on the subject of things you need to change, we have two more things to talk about. First, your car. I’ve never liked that you drive one of those Jeeps, and not only that, but it’s in that tacky red. Trade it in and get something respectable, like a BMW or Mercedes.”

Hannah just nodded at her mother. She had no intention of trading in her beloved Jeep, but she wouldn’t make the mistake of saying so. She wondered what else her delightful mother thought she should change about herself.

“We also want you to move back home. Where you live isn’t respectable. It’s little more than a rundown cottage, and you’re renting,” Gloria said, her disgust almost palpable.

Hannah’s eyes widened in horror as her father nodded in agreement with what her mother was saying.

“Vanderguards don’t rent,” Marshall said sternly. “We own. Since you refuse to use your trust fund and buy something that’s up to our standards, your mother and I want you to move in here. Appearances are everything, and you know this. We’ve made our disapproval known, but you’ve ignored us. So you will do everything we’ve told you to do, and by next weekend, you will be back here in your old room.”

Like hell she would.