She had the grace to blush a bit, sipping her own tea and taking a tiny bit of the pastry I’d given her. “They’re saying the two of you are in a relationship,” she confided, although the look on her face was not exactly one of congratulations.
I noticed this but decided it was due to the fact that Worth had made such a spectacle at the bachelor auction. “So, you heard what happened at the auction, I take it?” I asked, my eyes trained on her face.
She nodded. “A bit disgraceful, dear.”
“Perhaps, but it was for a very good cause,” I said, patting her hand.
“I don’t think you fully understand, my dear,” she said, leaning closer to me.
The snow was getting heavier and I briefly wondered how we would break ground with bad weather setting in earlier than normal this year. “How do you mean, Mrs. Jessup?” I asked idly, not really paying attention.
“You shouldn’t get mixed up with the LaVieres, my dear,” she said and it took a moment for her words to sink into my consciousness.
“Oh? Why do you say that?” I asked, half concentrating.
“It would bring up a most unfortunate affair and hurt a great many people, your father, most importantly,” she said quietly.
This snapped my attention to the present and what she was saying. “Whatever do you mean, Mrs. Jessup?”
“Dear, I wouldn’t bring this up, except there are some things that while better left buried, have the potential of rearing their ugly heads and perhaps it’s my job to try and prevent this. I can’t do as much as I used to, now that I’m here… but you’re here, too. I can tell you,” she said, looking at me for a reaction.
Suddenly I felt a cold chill and looked at her. “Mrs. Jessup, please tell me what it is you’re dancing around. If it affects me, I have the right to know.”
She sipped her tea, enjoying her moment in the spotlight as would anyone who had been retired from society’s pivotal position. “My dear,” she said, patting the back of my hand, “the senior Mr. LaViere and your mother once had a torrid affair.”
I choked on my tea, staring wide-eyed at her. “What?”
“Yes, my dear, I wouldn’t bring it up except that I can see nothing but trouble lying ahead.”
“When… when did this happen?” I asked, but in my gut, I knew. There was proof — it was in those pictures and in my mother’s half-ass explanation of them.
“It happened before you were born, dear. The families often gathered together and your mother loved throwing barbecues. Now, mind you, there was always a bit of flirting going on now and then, but it stayed within our set and that made it almost acceptable. Your mother, however, took it far past that point. She was quite smitten with LaViere and made a fool of herself, to be quite truthful. There was even some talk about a brief pregnancy,” she whispered, watching my face for a reaction. Naturally I was horrified. That would mean I was not the only child, just the only legitimate one.
“Mrs. Jessup, are you saying she had an abortion?”
She shook her head. “Not entirely sure. It was all very hush-hush. She went on a vacation quite suddenly, some excuse about Florida for the winter. Whether she had the child terminated or whether she gave birth and adopted it out, we’ll never know. I’m not even sure how much your father knows, but the less the better, you can be sure. He’s such a dear, though… he will always stand by her.”
I was in total shock. It wasn’t Mother’s behavior that stunned me. She had always had the undertone of being duplicitous. It wasn’t even that Dad had been so abused, he could take care of himself. It was the idea that possibly somewhere out there I might have an older sibling. The idea was too big to focus on at the moment.
Mrs. Jessup was watching my face for reactions and I didn’t want to upset her. “I think I knew a little bit about some of this,” I said to set her mind at ease. “I found some pictures and Mother’s explanation wasn’t entirely believable. Now, don’t you worry. Thank you for bringing this up. I surely will give this considerable thought before doing anything that could hurt someone, most especially Dad.”
She nodded, satisfied that she’d done the right thing and went back to her pastry. Suddenly, I felt an enormous need to get out in the fresh air. The air in the room was hot, stuffy and filled with odd odors from the kitchen, not to mention the stacked bedpans on the racks in the hallway. I stood, hugged Mrs. Jessup and said, “I need to go. I have an appointment that I’m late to, I’m sorry…”
Mrs. Jessup didn’t seem the least bit surprised. She had dropped the bomb, watched the explosion and was now getting out of the line of further fire mostly in the person of my mother.
Once I got into the fresh air, I drew in huge gulps, despite the fact that it was filled with snow. Internally, I felt like the maelstrom of flakes about me, confused and in a dead fall. I got to my car and climbed in and started the engine, just sitting there for some time. I wanted to cry and be sick simultaneously. I couldn’t seem to think straight. I didn’t want to be there although I had no idea where I wanted to be more. I just didn’t want to be me at that moment. I’d never felt like this before and couldn’t explain it. There was no safe place. I couldn’t go home and face my mother — not yet. That time would come. I couldn’t reach out to Worth — he was implicated by association and although he knew nothing of this, I had no idea how he might respond.
I went to the only person who could possibly shelter me — Brandon. I drove to his office and sat in his waiting room until his secretary motioned me in. Once he saw me, he stood and came toward me and I did the only thing I wanted to do. I fell into his arms. I was crying, almost hysterically. I knew Brandon was completely thrown by my behavior. Hell, I was too. He led me over to a leather sofa in his office and sat down next to me, cradling my face against his shoulder while I sobbed.
When the sobbing finally relented and I was left stutter-sucking in air, he asked me in a quiet voice, “Want to talk about it?” I shook my head, but I knew I had to talk to someone. I drew back and sat against the back of the sofa, fishing for tissues in my bag. Brandon quickly got to his feet and fetched a box he kept on his desk. He opened his door and spoke briefly with his secretary. Handing me the tissues, there was a tapping at the door within moments and in she came, a tray of cups and cookies in her hands. She set them on the coffee table and quietly left.
Brandon poured a cup of tea and handed it to me. “Here, drink this. It’s hot and will help to relax you inside.” He got up and retrieved a small flask from his desk drawer, adding a couple teaspoons to my tea. “There, that’ll help too,” he soothed me. He let me sit there for some time in silence, not pressing. He sensed I just needed him nearby, but not necessarily to say anything.
“I’m sorry for barging in,” I began, but he put up his hand immediately to interrupt me.