Seven Years Of Votes And Always One Short Chapter 03

Early the next morning, the manager in charge of tallying banquet supplies came down with a sudden illness.

Pearl looked concerned and volunteered.”Grandma, let me try?”

Grandma shook her head gently, full of fondness. “Don’t tire yourself out.”

Then Pearl’s gaze flicked to me, and her eyes caught light. “Jo studies math, doesn’t she? She must be amazing with numbers.”

Every eye in the room settled on me.

Grandma weighed it a moment, her tone bestowing a favor. “Very well. Let her try. It’s past time she saw how things are done.”

Mom accepted for me, quick and eager, hope brimming in her eyes.

Numbers had never been any trouble for me.

I hesitated, then nodded.

“Better not slip up and embarrass us. Or Pearl will end up mopping up your mess.”

I ignored the sneer Miles threw at my back.

Pearl led me into the preparation hall. The menu ran a full page, line pressed against line.

I reached for the calculator. Pearl snatched it away.

She read, and I did the math in my head.

“First course, the white-truffle bisque. Ten servings, eighteen hundred each.”

“Second, wild turbot. Eight fish, twenty-two hundred apiece.”

The figures flew through my head, fast and clean.

Add, multiply, carry, stack. Line upon line.

In under a minute, I gave the total. “One hundred forty-seven thousand, six hundred dollars.”

But Pearl seemed to have found herself a fun new game. She kept speeding up, faster and faster.

I locked my focus down and kept pace.

At some point, a knot of servants had gathered at the side door.

They held their phones up toward me, filming, laughing among themselves.

“That’s a math major for you. Look how fast she adds!”

“Country folk and their little sums. Not an ounce of a lady’s polish.”

I frowned and paid them no mind.

I never expected them to post the video to social media.

It landed online, caption attached. [The Shermans’ “young lady,” the human calculator, performing live! Country folk really can work!]

The video blew up quickly.

The comment section shifted from praise of her skill, to amusement, then to mockery.

[No way this is a Sherman heiress. She’s dressed like the hired help.]

[Look at those hands. Clearly built for hard labor. Bet they make her sanitize eight times before she’s allowed at the table.]

[What “heiress”? She’s a farm girl. A sparrow dreaming of being a swan!]

I snatched the nearest phone and marched up to Pearl. “You told them to film me?”

Pearl blinked, and her eyes went red on the spot. “Jo, I only wanted you to help out. I didn’t know they’d film it.”

She bit her lip, tears spattering down one after another.

Miles charged out of nowhere and pulled her behind him. “Jo Linley, why are you picking on Pearl?”

The other Shermans closed in around us, every face dark with blame.

I held the phone up to them. “Your staff put my video online.”

Miles glanced at the clip and laughed. “So that’s your play, Jo Linley. Whip up the internet to pressure us into voting you into the family.”

I froze.

“I didn’t…”

“The video has spread everywhere. You’ve dragged the Sherman name through the mud!”

“Did you think we would soften and vote to let you join us?”

Mom folded Pearl into her arms and looked at me, disappointment settling in her eyes. “Pearl was only trying to help you, and this is how you repay her?”

“Help me with what?”

“Help you fit into the Sherman family!”

Mom looked at me, exasperated to the bone.”Asking you to tally the banquet costs was your chance to prove yourself.”

“You could have tried again next year. Why throw it all away like this?”

I dragged my mouth into a smile, mocking myself. “It’s been seven years. How many more did you have in mind?”

Mom went still.

Her lips parted, yet no words came out.