Total pages in book: 110
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106935 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 535(@200wpm)___ 428(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
I grit my teeth and try to ignore the way I’m a sideshow to the New York elite. I bet they whisper about my mother too, then put on false faces and eat cobb salad with her.
When I leave, I meet their eyes, then smile. They can’t break me. I was broken years ago, and I had to put myself together again.
I did it thanks to Carla, and thanks to my friends. I touch my tattoo for strength as I exit, leaving them in my wake, like I’m a hurricane and they’re the damaged homes.
I join my mom and Rose at the table. Rose takes a sip of Perrier then says, “I hear Kip Cranston’s family is donating a set of golf clubs and golf lessons at their country club to the auction you’re working on with David.”
“And that gave me an idea. Since you and David insist on being just friends,” my mom chimes in, sketching air quotes, like our friendship is a personal repudiation of her matchmaking attempts.
Rose goes next, breezily suggesting, “Perhaps Kip could be your date to the auction.”
Wow. This is a new tactic. The have-a-friend-make-the-case tactic.
But no. No on so many levels. I’m not attracted to the man. I don’t like to discuss yachts, and country club memberships, and secret societies at Yale.
I’ve got an ace up my sleeve, and I play the hell out of it with a cheery smile. “Thank you for thinking of me, Rose,” I say to the woman I strangely dislike.
“Of course, dear.”
I turn my focus to my mom. “And I’d ordinarily love to, but I’m incredibly busy. I’m doing some collabs with Mia.”
Mom lifts a brow and asks archly, “Oh?”
But I stand my ground. “I like her product and her business practices,” I say, then tell her about my recent event and its potential. Like what it could do for Geeta and me. Especially Geeta and her responsibilities with her dad.
Mom brightens, but I can’t tell if her shift is real or fake. “Lovely. All that work will help you when you come to Beautique,” she says, and the answer is neither real nor fake—just selfish. “I suspect you’ll be more than ready to start as a high-level marketing VP. And just think how proud your father would be if you were working with me.”
I brace myself.
She’d better not say the next thing.
She’d really better not.
“You know your father would have wanted you to,” she adds.
She went there.
The place I can’t argue from. Did my father even say that to her? Was it his dying wish? Or is it hers? I don’t know. I’m afraid she’d break down if I even ask, so I’ve never questioned her. I’ve never told her about the promise I made him either, so I have no choice but to believe her.
I’m about to say thanks but no thanks to the Kip date when she sets a hand on mine, squeezing. “I worry about you, Layla. I want you to be safe. I want you to be with someone who comes from a good family,” she says.
The implication is clear—Dad’s business partner did not come from a good family. Joe McBride was from a rough section of Boston. He was the first in his family to go to college. He had no pedigree.
“Would you do this for me? Meet Kip?” Mom asks in a low voice. Rose has the decency to look away, fidgeting with her pearls.
I want Mom to be happy. I’ve always wanted that. There were so many nights when I was sure she’d never survive the loss of her love, her best friend, her rock. No matter how complicated our relationship is, I want her to find peace and joy in life again. I’ve found it with my friends and with my work. I don’t know if she truly has.
I relent though I don’t give all the way in. “I don’t want a date to the auction. But I’ll have coffee with Kip when I return.”
I haven’t seen her eyes sparkle with so much happiness in years.
Maybe this is a pyrrhic victory, but I’ll take it, especially since she says, “I wish I could be there at the auction, but I have to visit our offices in Los Angeles that week and I’ll be staying for a spa weekend.”
Oh, hello, empty home in the Hamptons. You are mine. “I’ll miss you, but could I use the house that weekend?”
“I had the alarm company test the system last week after the upgrade. It’s the most secure one out there. And you’re always free to use the house,” she says.
That’s always a win in my book, even though I have a date in a few more weeks.
Too bad it’s not with the only man I want to see.
20
THE HANDLE ON THE POT
Nick
So this is friendship with a woman. If so, I don’t know that I want to sign up for another stint of it.