I turn the car into a wide cobblestone driveway. The precisely manicured lawn spreads out on either side like twin emerald oceans. Annuals are arrayed in perfectly ordered rows, Prussian soldiers on a parade ground. The Grays’ house is an imposing stone Normandy with crimson shutters and a dark slate roof. It’s positioned squarely in the middle of their two-acre property. It was hard for me to believe that someone as joyful as Piper was when I first met her could have been raised in such a forbidding structure.
Thatcher Gray opens the door. Piper’s father is dressed in a long-sleeve white shirt, dark crisply creased slacks, and polished Italian loafers. His gray hair is trimmed close to the sides and top of his narrow head. Piper leans in to kiss her father, her full, red mouth a stark contrast to her father’s thin, bloodless lips. Thatcher extends his hand to me coolly.
“Mick,” he says, his close-set blue eyes scrutinizing me. We shake perfunctorily before Thatcher bends to pick up Gabby. “And how’s the prettiest girl in the world?” he says as he lifts her. Gabby looks back at me and rolls her eyes, clearly thinking, Not this again.
The four of us move through the living and dining rooms to the kitchen, where Helen Gray is preparing dinner. Helen, a petite woman wearing a green cocktail dress, turns as we enter, her eyes and mouth smiling widely. She hugs and kisses all three of us, then offers Piper and me some wine.
“From the cellar,” Thatcher says about the wine, reminding us about the wine cellar he had built into his basement earlier that summer. Piper told me the construction cost almost $50,000—a steep enough price that Thatcher decided to cancel his and Helen’s annual trip to Europe in the fall. According to Piper, her mother was upset by this, but, of course, didn’t share that with her husband. Thatcher Gray suffers criticism poorly.
During dinner, Helen asks how soon it’ll be that Gabby goes off to first grade.
“It’s less than two weeks now,” I tell her. “Gabby has been getting more and more excited as we get close to it.” Our daughter enjoys learning new things, but what she’s really looking forward to is the social component.
“School is imperative, Gabrielle,” Thatcher declares, leaning toward Gabby. “You want to have a nice house when you grow up, and nice clothes and nice friends. School is where you learn the things you need to know to get them.”
Gabby looks down at her plate and pushes around her vegetables as her grandfather lectures her.
“This trout almondine is superb,” I tell Helen. “You’ve really outdone yourself.”
Helen beams, but her smile fades quickly as her husband pipes in.
“I had the best trout almondine for lunch the other week,” Thatcher declares. “In the city, at that restaurant on Rittenhouse Square. The one that’s fitted out like a French bistro. What’s it called? Parc?”
I shoot an annoyed glance at Piper as Helen takes a long draw on her wine. Piper ignores me, asks her father how he’s doing.
“I’d be doing better if it weren’t for the economy,” he answers. “First the Chinese threaten to take down the whole world with their inflated stock market, and now those idiots in England are leaving the EEC, thanks to the millions of low-income voters who have no clue as to how the global markets work.”
If the House of Lords were ever to award seats to Americans, Thatcher Gray would be the first man to get one.
“There were plenty of big-money men who voted to leave, too,” I say. “They have to take some share of the blame.”
Piper’s father doesn’t miss a beat. “Big-money men like the one you’re representing? Phillip Baldwin. That SOB hurt a lot of good people. Including a number of my friends and fellow club members. And you’re trying to get him off scot-free.”
“Actually, he’s going to plead. He’s just signed the agreement. He’ll probably report to prison sometime next week. It’ll be in the papers, I’m sure.”
Thatcher chews on this for a moment. “How long will he get?”
“The term is twenty years, though he’ll likely be out in ten. A full decade behind bars.”
“Ten years! For what he did? That villain should rot until the next ice age.”
Helen comes to my defense. “Ten years isn’t nothing, Thatcher. I’m sure prison will be pretty awful for him.”
Not a man to brook dissent from his own wife, Thatcher shoots Helen a sharp look. Helen picks up her wine and looks away. Piper keeps her own counsel, not wanting to get between her parents. She’s made that mistake before.
We sit uncomfortably for a few minutes, then Thatcher takes another tack. Swirling his wine, he looks over at me and says, “Baldwin going to trial would have brought in a lot of money for your firm, I imagine.”
I try to feign nonchalance. “The firm’s doing well, so the Baldwin thing’s not a big deal.”
Thatcher glances quickly at Piper. He’s won the point, and we both know it. Still, he hasn’t cut me deeply enough. He goes for my Achilles’ heel.
“How’s that brother of yours?”
Piper’s father has met Tommy a handful of times. Despite Piper’s best efforts to get her father to warm to Tommy, the older man has shown no interest in befriending my brother, or even acknowledging his right to exist. I smile inwardly as I recall Tommy’s initial description of Thatcher Gray: “Sir Thatcher, a stick up his own ass.”
Before I can answer her father, Piper chimes in. “Tommy’s doing very well. He’s been a great help to me in my gardens, and he’s working hard with Mick on the David Hanson case.”
At the mention of David’s name, Thatcher winces. Like many of the city’s big-firm lawyers, Thatcher isn’t sure how to deal with the charges against David. On the one hand, social propriety requires that a certain distance be maintained. On the other, if David manages to escape conviction and reclaim his old job as general counsel of Hanson World Industries, he will once again control the allocation of millions of dollars in legal work.
When dinner is finished, I volunteer to help Helen with the dishes as Piper and her father repair to his study. After we’re finished loading the dishwasher, Helen and I join Piper and “Sir Thatcher.” When we enter the study, we find the two of them sitting on the tufted leather couch that is positioned in front of Thatcher’s antique mahogany desk.
“Good news, honey!” Piper exclaims when she sees me. “Father’s going to lend us the money to get the new roof!”
As soon as we’ve put Gabby to bed and we’re in our own bedroom, I start in. “What the hell, Piper? I mean, really. What did you tell him when you were alone? That all that stuff I said about the firm doing well was just a bunch of bullshit?”
“I didn’t say any such thing. I just said we needed a new roof, and money was a little tight, that’s all.”
I want to hit something, I’m so frustrated. “For fuck’s sake. We do not need a new roof! The one we have is fine! Why aren’t you hearing me?”
“Why aren’t you hearing me? The roof is not fine. It’s flimsy and it puts our house in danger.”