“Oh, Camilla, I haven’t had a chance to talk to him about it,” Evelyn said, her heartbeat increasing.
“That’s why I dropped by,” said Camilla, putting her hand on Dale’s arm; both Evelyn and Barbara looked at the hand with suspicion. “I thought we should talk about it one-on-one. The Luminaries, Mr. Beegan, is such a marvelous event. It’s thought leaders from business, the arts, philanthropy, and, of course, law”—she squeezed his arm—“coming together to talk about ideas. I would be honored if you would be my guest, and a Luminary Patron.”
“Your guest? Surely you can find someone younger and more lively than me.”
“Not at all, Mr. Beegan. You would be perfect for it. It’s a really nice event. It’s at Georgette Scharffenberg’s apartment, Constellation Capital, and it has the feel of a private dinner, so it’s not too formal,” Camilla said.
“Constellation Capital,” Dale said. “The private-equity firm? I don’t think they’d be too happy to see me. They backed a company I recently won a settlement against.”
“We have all sorts of interesting financial firms in Bibville these days,” Barbara interrupted.
“Mom,” said Evelyn. Barbara was not acting like a shipping heiress in the slightest.
“Oh, no, it’s not like that,” Camilla purred, ignoring both the women. “It’s purely a social event. Honestly, David Boies came last year and everyone loved him, even though the people hosting last year basically single-handedly funded the Bush side of Bush v. Gore.”
The thought of her father circulating around a party talking about his mill-town childhood to Georgette Scharffenberg made Evelyn cringe. Why did Camilla want him, anyway? Souse could help Camilla line up whomever she wanted—and then Evelyn felt hot. Of course. A double whammy. This way, Camilla got the $25,000 donation, which would help her overall social power, but bringing an under-investigation Southern plaintiffs’ lawyer to the party would be a giant fuck-you to Souse and would lend Camilla some rebellious notoriety.
Evelyn pushed a knife across the table to get her mother’s attention, and, when Barbara looked up, Evelyn gave her a hard look and mouthed, Grand jury. Her mother could put a stop to this, and would at least want to protect the family’s, if not Dale’s, reputation in New York. “I’m not sure the time is quite right,” Barbara said, taking the cue. “Dale is trying to focus just on his work these days and not on public appearances. Aren’t you, Dale?”
“Well, this doesn’t sound too public,” Dale said.
“There’s also a donation involved, right, Camilla? A donation. A required donation,” Evelyn said. She was almost shouting.
“The Patrons support the event, but almost all the money goes to literary programs for underprivileged youths, like library makeovers in public schools. It’s really a terrific cause,” Camilla said.
“I’d be proud to support a cause like that,” Dale said.
“It’s just, in terms of your money—attention—time—time—maybe it’s not a great time,” Evelyn stuttered, standing up from the table.
“Are you trying to stop him from going?” Camilla said. Her voice was innocent, but her eyes were flaring.
“No! No. Of course not. It sounds lovely. Just, Dad can overcommit himself so easily. Can’t you, Dad?”
Dale grinned at Camilla. “I do overcommit myself, but this sounds like such a nice invitation that I may have to say yes.”
“I think it’ll be fantastic, Mr. Beegan. So fun. I read your guest lecture at UNC on how Wall Street is working against the American public, and I know the other attendees would love to hear about that.”
“I can’t imagine that anyone wants to hear about that,” Barbara said, not very quietly.
“Camilla,” Evelyn said, almost pleading. Her father looked so buoyed. Evelyn wanted to protect him; Evelyn wanted to sacrifice him. Evelyn mostly just wanted to get the hell out of there. She started edging toward the door as though she could magnetically pull Camilla with her.
“I’d be honored,” Dale said, beaming.
“I’ll put you down as a Luminary Patron,” Camilla said. “Thank you so much, Mr. Beegan.”
Evelyn stayed standing, tapping her foot and willing Camilla to get up and leave; Camilla finally did, following Evelyn outside and hissing, “What was that? You’re supposed to help me.”
“I was. I was! He’s honestly really busy.”
“Too busy for me, I guess?”
“No, that’s not it. At all. There’s just a lot going on.”
Fifteen minutes later, and thirty minutes late for their appointments, Evelyn and Camilla descended into Jin Soon on Jones Street. Camilla picked up a gray-brown polish from the rack of polishes. “Make sure he can go. All right?”
Evelyn shook her head no, but said, “Okay. Okay.”
Camilla handed Evelyn the nail-polish bottle. “This would look good on your toes,” she said. It was the color of dried mud.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN