The Last of the Stanfields

“I grew up with those people, and I know just what they’re capable of,” he warned her.

Edward’s words reminded May that with all the important people he knew, he might be a good connection for the paper, at least eventually. Despite all his admirable qualities, she could tell he worried too much about appearances, a weakness she’d found in so many men. May knew she had to be patient and wait for the right moment, and she was sure Edward would certainly rise to the task and help them.

“I just hope you’re not getting used by my sister. With the chip she has on her shoulder, it’s no surprise she would launch something like this.”

“Just what happened between you two?” asked May.

“Sally-Anne blames me for not taking her side. She’s been waging an endless war against our parents since we were teenagers. I find her hostility toward them as unfair as it is unbearable. I know Mother isn’t always easy. She may seem harsh, but after going through what she did when she was young . . . I know it makes me sound stuffy, but I actually admire my parents. And not only because they’ve been so successful. They both suffered terrible hardship. My mother certainly didn’t grow up with a silver spoon in her mouth. When she came to America, she was penniless, her parents dead and buried. I never met my maternal grandparents; they were Jews in hiding, murdered by the Nazis before I was born. Mother made it out alive thanks to her sheer courage and my father’s heroism. That’s why I just can’t accept the way Sally judges them so harshly. I’ve always tried to smooth things out between them. I tried to protect my sister, from herself most of all . . . all her rage and excess . . . nothing ever stopped her from doing just as she pleased. In the end, I gave up.”

“Well, she certainly still loves you very deeply,” May lied.

“Oh, I highly doubt that.”

“When she talks about you, you can hear in her voice how much she admires you.”

“Darling, that’s very thoughtful to say, but I don’t believe it for one second. Sally-Anne thinks only of herself. She has such hatred for her own family . . . There’s nothing but bitterness in her heart.”

“If you think that, you don’t know her at all. Not really. You think I’m thoughtful? Sally-Anne’s the queen of thoughtful! She spends all her time thinking about other people. Sure, she was born into money. She could have just put her feet up and enjoyed the easy life, but she didn’t. She chose not to. Yeah, she’s rebellious, but always for noble causes, all against the injustice of the world.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were in love with her, the way you talk.”

“Please, Edward, don’t be silly.”

“Very well, then,” he sighed. “Message received. Don’t speak ill of my sister, or else run the risk of getting my head bit off.”

May took Edward by the arm and led him back to the manor.

“Let’s head back inside,” she said. “I’m thirsty, and I think we should get drunk. I can’t stand Sundays. I wish this weekend would never end.”

“Not to worry, dear. It’s far from the last.”

“Of course. As long as we take it slow. I got the message loud and clear, what you said about . . . what was her name again? Zimmer, was that it? I don’t know anything about her, but I know I don’t want us to end the same way. Do you still have feelings for her?”

“Ha! Oh, you women and the traps you set for us. If I say no, I’m a swine. If I say yes, I’m king of the swine. I think you’ve got the right idea: enjoy what life has given us, without rushing to ask questions, especially about past romantic entanglements. Which reminds me: you haven’t told me a thing about yours.”

“That’s because there’s nothing to tell.”

The couple entered the manor and settled into the smoking room for a nice cozy drink, the fire crackling in the fireplace. May ordered a glass of champagne, while Edward opted for bourbon.

Around sunset, they returned to the room and packed their bags. May stopped halfway through and took a long look around the room. She had slept so soundly in that massive four-poster bed, gazing up at the silk canopy the next morning with Edward sleeping softly beside her. She’d opened the thick window curtains, and the sunlight streamed in over a gorgeous room-service breakfast. May savored the divine sensation of walking barefoot on the Persian rug. She never wanted to leave.

“Can’t we stay until tomorrow?” she asked Edward as he folded his things. “I just can’t imagine walking back into that loft tonight.”

“Sorry to say, I have to work early tomorrow, darling. But since we’ll get in late in any event, why not spend the night at my place?”

“Under the same roof as your parents? In their home?”

“It’s more of an estate, really. I have my own quarters, May. Believe me, we can stay there and not cross paths with them at all.”

“Even tomorrow morning?”

“We can leave through the service door—there’s nothing to worry about, honestly.”

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