Her mother looked down and tittered unsteadily. “Goodness. Right.”
She walked back to the dressing room as though nothing had been amiss. Spencer stood rooted to the spot for a moment, an uneasy cramp in her stomach. It was natural for Spencer to feel uncomfortable in Mrs. DiLaurentis’s presence—she was one of the last people to see Ali alive. But why in the world would her mother fall to pieces in front of their former neighbor?
Chapter 8
How to Get Lei’d
When Spencer stepped onto the yacht club’s parking lot that night for the pre–New Year’s party, she could smell the heady scents of grilled pineapple and poi, tiki-torch smoke, and coconut. Since everyone had been asked to show up dressed for the luau theme, Spencer wore a short, floral-printed dress and an orchid flower behind her ear, which kept sending out romantic whiffs of perfume with every toss of her hair. Melissa had on a long printed maxi dress and floral lei around her neck. Spencer’s mother had stubbornly refused to wear anything but a white Calvin Klein sheath, though she’d begrudgingly put on a pair of sparkly high-heeled thongs and an oversized floral statement necklace. Her father wore an obnoxious orange and pink Hawaiian shirt under his Armani sport jacket, just like every other man in the room over the age of forty.
As the family walked toward the entrance, occasionally saying hello to other yacht club members they’d met through the years, Spencer’s father’s fingers flew across his phone’s little keyboard. Her mother nudged him. “Weren’t you going to leave that in the car?”
“I’m just sending a text,” he said distractedly.
“To whom? And since when do you know how to text?”
“I’ve always known how to text.” His phone rang. He answered it with a grunt, then whispered something into it that sounded like She is? and then, Okay, good.
When he hung up, Spencer’s mother was staring at him. “Who was that?”
“Just a work thing,” her father murmured hurriedly.
Spencer’s mother pursed her lips and fingered her necklace. Melissa leaned over to Spencer. “What’s with Dad’s sudden air of mystery?” she whispered.
Spencer shrugged. She had no idea, but she didn’t like it.
The Hastingses stepped over a threshold and into the luau. Bursts of brightly colored flowers and palm trees covered in twinkling lights transformed the normally stuffy restaurant into a high-class Hawaiian fantasy. A long-haired girl in a coconut-shell bikini top and a grass skirt handed everyone, including Spencer, a pi?a colada. “Aloha!” she bleated happily, not noticing that Spencer’s parents looked like they were ready to throw each other into the roasting pit. “Grab your place cards and find your table! Have a wonderful time!”
Spencer’s mother plucked her place card from the long table in the lobby. “We’re at table three,” she said in a pinched voice, and started across the dining room, the others on her heels. Halfway there, she froze in her tracks. Mrs. DiLaurentis and her husband were sitting at table six, wearing matching puka shell necklaces. Ali’s mom looked up and noticed the Hastingses, but instead of waving, she furrowed her brow and looked away.
By the time they sat down at their assigned table, Spencer’s mother had already finished her pi?a colada and had signaled a waiter for another. Her father was still tapping on his phone, a weird expression on his face. Spencer looked around the room, trying to spot Colin. A ten-foot Christmas tree decorated with pineapples and fresh flowers stood in the corner. The band, dressed in Hawaiian gear, crooned onstage. Waiters swirled with appetizers and salads, and a bunch of people were milling around the dance floor and reconnecting. But she didn’t see him and Ramona anywhere.
Being in this room again reminded Spencer of the time she’d attended this party in fifth grade. The DiLaurentises had been here too, and Ali had worn a drop-waist dress with fringe at the hem—it had been a twenties theme that year. Ali had hung around with a bunch of prep-school girls from New York City; the five of them had danced wildly to every fast song the band played. Spencer had danced at the edge of the group, thinking that Ali would invite her into the circle, but of course she hadn’t.
When Spencer had left the dance floor, feeling like a failure, she’d come upon her dad and Ali’s mom talking heatedly in the hallway. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen them interact before. A thorn had twisted uncomfortably in her gut, and she’d cautiously backed away, putting it out of her mind.