tanked. One of the companies I was looking at acquiring found an angel to finance them.” He took a deep swallow of his whiskey. His glance shot over to Courtney. “The only good thing that happened was Gray cleared inspections on his Back Bay project. They should get the certificate of occupancy soon.”
Her brother scored another success. Rah. Family dinners always made her feel invisible. Gray was the only child her father ever talked about. Gray this, Gray that. Gray. Gray. Boring Gray. Why couldn’t her father recognize that she added color to the Smythe family?
Courtney asked, “Is he back in Boston?”
“No. He’s bidding on property near Savannah.” Father set his glass on the silver coaster on the coffee table. “He’s adding a Savannah office, too. Not just working out of Boston.”
And the perfection that was Gray continued. She slipped deeper into her chair, wanting to blend into the fabric.
Marcus entered. “May I serve dinner?”
Mother looked to Father, who nodded.
“Would you like another drink?” Courtney asked him.
He thrust the glass at her. She plucked ice cubes from the bucket and splashed another shot in the tumbler.
Father took the glass, then headed to the dining room.
Mother whispered to him. Please let her make a dent in his stubbornness.
Father sank into the head chair. Mother sat to his right and Courtney to his left. If Gray was here, he would have this seat. She’d be forced farther down the table. Who said there wasn’t still a hierarchy, like in the Regency romance novels she loved to read?
She was nothing.
They pulled cloches off their plates. Her stomach twisted. How could she eat dinner without a solution to the chaos her life had become?
“Can I ask why you took Courtney’s credit cards away?” Mother asked.
Thank goodness. Courtney cut a small piece of lamb chop. Mother would fix this.
Father pointed his loaded fork at Courtney. “I’m done supporting her shopping habit. It’s time she get a job.”
“You never asked her to work before.” Mother didn’t look at her. “Why now?”
“In the first six months of this year, your dear daughter has spent a hundred thousand dollars on travel, clothes, shoes and parties. Families live on that.” He slammed down his silverware. “She needs to discover what it’s like to earn a living.”
The lamb she’d swallowed formed a lump in her throat. Coughing, she grabbed her wine and swallowed. “I’ll—I’ll do better. Put me on a budget. Please, Daddy.”
“If you don’t want to work, then have one of those boys who fawn around your skirts marry you and take on your useless habits.”
Useless. Tears burned her eyes.
“That’s uncalled for,” Mother hissed. Her head snapped back and forth. She was probably worried the servants would overhear the argument.
“I’ve had it.” He emptied his whiskey and pointed at Courtney. “Gray is right. You need to stand on your own feet.”
Of course. Mr. Perfect. He’d caused this mess.
If Gray had been the impetus, then he should be the solution. In a soft voice she asked, “Gray is opening an office in Savannah?”
“Yes.” Father sighed.
“Maybe he’ll have a job for me.” She’d pretend to go to Savannah for work. At least until her father calmed down.
Her father’s gray eyes held hers for almost too long. “You plan on becoming a carpenter?”
She blinked. “He’ll need help decorating or answering phones or...” What else did people do in offices?
He snorted. “Good luck.”
“Why, thank you, Daddy.” Did she hit the last word too hard?
She could head to Savannah for a week or two. Time to escape Boston and take a vacation. “Will you up my credit card limit so I can drive to Gray’s and not have to sleep in my car?”
“Of course he will.” Mother glared at her husband.
Good. Mother could make this problem go away. Courtney would take a road trip.
“ARE YOU SURE this is all you need?” Kaden arranged a picture of the grandmother he’d never met on his grandfather’s nursing home dresser.
“I just want my own PJs, robe, clothes and a picture of my wife,” Nigel sighed. “But I’d rather be home.”
“Not yet.” Kaden’s chest tightened. He’d just checked his granddad into a highly-rated, long-term rehabilitation center. Even though his grandfather had come through the surgery like a champ, he needed care and physical therapy. Now to get Granddad to accept that he needed to stay here. “How does that look?”
“Fine,” he grumbled. “This darn hip made me miss Bess and Daniel’s wedding. The Fitzgeralds throw the best parties.”
They’d talked about this thirty minutes ago. Granddad’s pain meds messed with his memory. Kaden said, “There will be other weddings.”
“I’d like to see my grandson married.”
“Not on the horizon.” Kaden avoided his grandfather’s eyes. “Bureau keeps me too busy.”
“I can’t have you hovering by my bedside for weeks.” Nigel shook his head. “Head back to Atlanta.”
“We’ve had this conversation.” Kaden patted his shoulder. Bones protruded that hadn’t been there before. “I’m taking a well-earned vacation.”
“That’s ridiculous. You’ll go crazy sitting around.”
“I picked up something to while away the hours between your torture sessions.” Kaden dug in the bag, grinning. “I mean your physical therapy sessions.”
He set a chessboard on a rolling table. Aligning the pieces, he took a white and black pawn and mixed them behind his back. He held out his closed hands. “Your choice.”
Granddad tapped one. White.
“You open.” Kaden set down the pawns. “How many hours do you think we’ve played chess?”
“At first you couldn’t sit for more than fifteen minutes. What a squirmy seven-year-old you were.” His grandfather advanced his pawn. “But hundreds of hours, I guess. Maybe thousands?”
Kaden
