THREE
Weatherly
I got ready too early. I’m far too anxious. The only good thing I can say about that is that I haven’t thought about Dad and Michael even once. And that’s a miracle!
I head for the kitchen, thinking I should at least go down and speak to Stella. I downplay the fact that I secretly plan to grill her about her son until he arrives. I find her stirring a pan of red sauce that smells like heaven.
“Hi, Stella,” I greet loud enough for her to hear me over the overhead fan that’s sucking most of the fumes from the room.
She turns a somewhat haggard yet still beautiful face in my direction. “Weatherly, it’s been too long! Look at you, all grown up.”
I walk over and bend to kiss her pale cheek. She’s a tiny woman, probably not more than five feet or so. “It has been too long. How are you?”
Her hair is still mostly black and wound on her crown just like I remember, but her smile seems weaker somehow. Tired maybe. Of course, I guess it could be just that she’s aged. It’s been years since I’ve seen her.
“I’m fine, my dear. How have you been?”
I pause then shrug. “Okay.” No need to burden this poor woman with all my issues. The fact that I even considered it for a few seconds is probably an excellent indication of my level of distress. Or my level of aloneness in all this. The people in my circles aren’t the type of friends that I share with. At least not anything that matters.
“I don’t suppose I’ve seen you since you went to college. Are you working?”
The embarrassing truth—God, how I hate sharing it. “No, I’m . . . still looking for the right job.”
And I am. I have been since the day I graduated. Part of the problem is that I majored in business, which wasn’t at all where my passion was. It was simply what was expected of me so that I would be better able to support my billionaire mogul husband when I landed him. Support as in keep his domestic affairs in order. Because in my family’s circles, that requires a college degree. But since that hasn’t happened, much to my father’s dismay, no job that I’ve showed interest in has met with my father’s approval.
“What is it that you want to do?”
I sigh wistfully. “I’d love to expand Safe Passage, but my father doesn’t think that’s a good use of money.”
“Is that your children’s charity?”
“Yes.” I nod and smile. It makes me happy that she’s heard of it. It’s such an important cause to me, one I wish I could further. “I plan to invest more when I get my trust.” My funds are limited until I turn twenty-five. I’ve been holding out until then, until I can get out from under my father’s thumb, but he threw the ultimate kink in my plan by announcing that I’ll be marrying Michael Stromberg or my trust will be forfeited.
My father is a land developer and he ran into some financial trouble when one of his backers reneged on a deal. Stock prices for his company fell and their financial distress drew the eye of a larger company, Randolph Consolidated, that has tried to buy out the stockholders. However, rather than trying to work out a deal with Randolph, whom my father hates, he came up with a diabolical plan to merge with another developing company, Stromberg Holdings, through marriage. Marriage to me. Dad had no problem pimping me out to sweeten the deal. It’s not even that I’m his only option; I’m just the easiest one. The one that’s the least distasteful to him. It doesn’t matter what I find distasteful. It’s just about the money. Always the money. He’s even using money to manipulate me, threatening to take my trust if I don’t cooperate. He knows that I plan to use my trust to help the kids at Safe Passage, so I can’t stand for my trust to be forfeited.
So far, his plan seems to be working. But I’m not ready to give up yet, which is why I came to Chiara. I just need time to come up with my own plan.
“I’m glad to see you doing something meaningful with your life.” A gentle knock to the rest of my family? Possibly. The sad thing is, it’s warranted.
As if on cue, my cell rings from the hidden pocket of my skirt. I’d almost forgotten I’d brought it down with me. I take it out and see my mother’s face displayed on the caller ID.
It’s like she can read my mind.
“Excuse me, Stella.”
She nods and returns her attention to the sauce while I make my way toward the study.
“Hello?”
“Weatherly, why must you be so willful?” Aurora O’Neal is usually much more circumspect. Her blunt disregard of pleasantries tells me just exactly how upset she really is.
“Hi, Mom. I’m great. How are you?”
“Don’t be obtuse, Weatherly. You know I’m concerned about you. Always. That’s why I’m positively baffled by your reaction to this merger.”
“That’s the problem, Mother. I don’t want a merger. I want a marriage. To someone I at least like.”