Independently Wealthy: A Novel

by Lorraine Zago Rosenthal

  I pushed his hand away, my heart plummeting at the very real possibility that Wes was with me only for hatesex and revenge like Ned had suspected. Maybe Wes thought the best way to get back at a dead man was through his living daughter.

  “I’m sorry, but … I just don’t believe you,” I said.

  His smile faded. “Why would you talk to me this way? I’ve done nothing to deserve it.”

  Mom had said she trusted my judgment, and even though it had gone on the fritz for a while, I felt it coming back in full force. “You’ve been lying, Wes. As disappointing as this is to admit … I think you knew who I was when we met at the wedding reception.”

  He laughed airily. “That’s crazy. I didn’t—”

  “Was our meeting there even an accident? Did you know I was going to be in D.C?”

  His laughter disappeared and he examined me seriously, like I was showing signs of an unbalanced mind. “Come on, Savannah. How could I have known? These things you’re saying … they aren’t normal. You’re scaring me.”

  “You’re scaring me. You’ve let me down, too. I thought we were like … a team.”

  “We were,” he said, moving closer to me. “We are.”

  I took a step back. “That isn’t true, either.”

  “It is,” he insisted. “I had no clue until yesterday that you’d dropped the ornament on my mother’s lawn, and I was completely unaware you were going to be in D.C.… and I didn’t know who you were until you told me. Please stop being so paranoid.”

  I crossed my arms over my chest. He was making it easier to be less hurt and more angry. “When I gave you my name, did you really need to look me up to figure out who I was?”

  “Of course I did,” he said. “Don’t be so neurotic.”

  I unlatched my arms, and they dropped to my sides. “You think I’m neurotic? Don’t try to put me down when you’re the one who—”

  He held both of his palms flat in the air. “Relax,” he said soothingly. “I’d never heard your name until you gave it to me. My mother never mentioned you, and I’ve already explained that I don’t read the gossip blogs. I don’t even live in New York anymore, so I’m not up to speed on all the news here. And I see no reason to rehash this … but since you seem bent on it, don’t forget you knew who I was … and you pretended not to.”

  I shook my head again. “All I knew was that I’d seen you at Senator Caldwell’s house. I had no idea you were her son … and when I found out, I immediately said we shouldn’t see each other anymore. I guess I was right.”

  He scoffed. “I can’t believe this.”

  “I can’t, either,” I said. “I really liked you, but—”

  He came closer, looking down at me as wisps of brown hair dangled over his forehead. “I like you, too. Don’t you know that? Don’t you know by now how I feel about you?”

  “No,” I said, tapping my foot against the floor. “I don’t.”

  He shook his head as a frustrated grunt sprang from his throat. “My God, Savannah … now you’re really acting insane.”

  I didn’t want a fight. I just wanted him to go away and let me nurse my wounds in private. But he was getting me so riled up that I just couldn’t keep my mouth shut. “Crazy, neurotic, insane … are there any other adjectives pertaining to my psychological health that you’d like to insult me with?” I asked, raising my voice.

  “I’m the one who should feel insulted. You’re accusing me of being a liar.”

  I pointed to the broken crystal. “It’s not like I don’t have evidence. It makes me wonder if the main reason you wanted to meet me was just … to get into my hotel room.”

  “What?” he said, his eyes widening. “You think I devised some elaborate scheme just for that? You’re not the only girl who’d let me into her room, you know. That might sound disgustingly conceited, but you’ve driven me to it.”

  “But none of those other girls,” I said, “are Edward Stone’s daughter. Isn’t he what this whole thing was about?”

  Wes threw his hands in the air. “What are you saying? I don’t get it.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe you didn’t care about him as much as you claim. Maybe you wanted to get back at him for his affair with your mother … and using me was the best way to do it. You know … sleep with his daughter, get her to fall in love with you, and then drop her like trash.”

  Wes looked at me for a long moment before he shook his head disdainfully. “No,” he said in a firm voice. “I never had any intention of using you. Your accusation doesn’t even make sense, since you invited me into your room and I was the one who stopped what we were doing on your bed.”

  I paused, absorbing every word and letting them roll around in my head. “Maybe,” I said finally, “you only stopped it because you sensed I didn’t want to keep going. Maybe that was part of your act, too.”

  He blinked a few times. “My act? You can’t be serious.”

  “I wish I wasn’t. I think you knew I’d fall hard for you if I thought you were an honorable man. I’m also starting to wonder if you used your job and everything we have in common as a way to lure me in.”

  His mouth twisted into a snarl. “If you think I haven’t been emotionally wrecked by what happened with our parents or I haven’t truly sacrificed for my work—”

  “I never said that.”

  We just stared at each other for a tense moment before he grabbed his coat and his suitcase. He rolled the suitcase across the room, and I followed behind him until he stepped into the hall, stood right outside the doorway, and turned to face me.

  “Your stupid accusations,” he said as he slipped into his coat, “don’t make any difference. You were going to break up with me, anyway … right?”

  I drummed my fingers against my thigh. I’d been trying so hard not to mention Jonathan, but he’d left me no choice. “Yes,” I admitted. “But until a few minutes ago, that wasn’t because of you. The truth is … it’s because of your father. I just don’t believe he’s as innocent as you think.”

  Wes was glaring at me now. “Well,” he said, “since we’re talking about innocence and the truth … I know how much you want to clear your father’s name. I know you want to believe he was a good man. I didn’t want to tell you this before, but to be perfectly honest … he wasn’t.”

  I stopped tapping my fingers as my body stiffened. Wes’s last two words confirmed all of my suspicions about him. But most of all, they made me wish I’d never touched him or let him touch me. I couldn’t even stand to look at him anymore as he stood on my threshold with a smug smile and a cold gaze.

  I wiped my hand across my lips to clean him off. Then I slammed my door shut.

  Twenty-two

  I never thought I’d have such a burning desire to apologize to Ned. But I couldn’t get in touch with him because we’d never exchanged personal phone numbers, and Caroline’s cell had gone straight to voice mail when I called to get his information from her. I also tried Ned at Stone News, thinking he might be working this Sunday like last. But there was no answer.

  I did have Celeste’s number, though. So I sat at my kitchen table that afternoon and called her, and she sounded happily surprised to hear from me.

  “I don’t know where Ned is right now,” she said. “But he’ll be at my parents’ house in Jamaica Estates at five. We’re having Sunday dinner … it’s an Italian tradition.”

  “How nice,” I said, thinking that things must have been progressing well between them if he was having dinner with her family. Setting them up might have been a good idea after all. “Could you please ask him to call me when he gets there? I really need to talk to him.”

  “So you two are speaking again?” she asked.

  “Not as far as he knows,” I said. “But I’ve realized the problem between us was my fault … and I want to tell him that.”

  “I don’t think you should do it over the phone, Savannah. Why don’t you meet him here and have dinner with all of us?”

  That was
a good idea, so I freshened up and changed into a knit dress and my Hermès boots, and then I called Tony. “Are you in Manhattan?” I asked.

  “Yup,” he said. “If you need a ride somewhere, I’m available.”

  He arrived at my building not long after that, and we stopped at the Silver Moon Bakery on our way to Queens so I could buy a dessert. Soon we were outside a home that resembled Virginia Stone’s place in Larchmont. It wasn’t quite as big but had the same Tudor style, and it looked like a cross between a small castle and a gingerbread house.

  Tony cut the engine. “Nice place. Is your friend a fellow heiress?”

  “I’m not sure,” I said. “This is actually her parents’ home.”

  “They’ve got some money, then. Jamaica Estates is a pricey area, and this house is worth a few million. Trust me … I’ve been studying the real estate market for the past couple of years.”

  I didn’t doubt it. I got out of the car and told Tony I’d call when I was ready to leave, and then I walked through a fancy iron gate and up a few steps to the front door, which was inside an alcove made of stone. I rapped the door with a brass knocker, and Celeste answered it, wearing a violet dress and a welcoming smile. She gave me a hug and I handed her a bakery box filled with apple tartlets, and she thanked me and brought me into a circular foyer that had a marble floor, a cathedral ceiling, and a spiral staircase leading to the second level.

  “What a beautiful home,” I said while she took my coat.

  “Thanks,” she answered modestly.

  I heard noise in another room—a baby cooing and people chatting. “Do you live here?”

  She shook her head and hung up my coat in a nearby closet. “To my parents’ horror, I share an apartment in the East Village with a roommate. They can’t understand why I’d pay rent when I can live here for free … but I prefer to take care of myself.”

  “I can relate to both sides of that argument,” I said with a grin.

  Celeste smiled as she closed the closet door. “Ned isn’t here yet,” she said. “But everyone else is … so come this way and I’ll introduce you.”

  I followed her across the foyer and into a dining room with walls painted a deep shade of red. I could see a lovely garden and a covered pool through the windows, and I was surrounded by antique furniture that included a long table. There were sixteen chairs around it, and only three were empty. Celeste introduced me to everyone—her parents, her older brothers, her sisters-in-law, and her nieces and nephews, including the baby I’d heard earlier. He was in a high chair, and Celeste bent down and kissed his cheek before we joined everyone at the table.

  “Do you like Italian food, Savannah?” Celeste’s father asked.

  He was a sixtyish man with a slight Italian accent, a full head of white hair, and a matching mustache. He sat at the head of the table and his wife sat at the other end, and I smiled as I turned toward him. “Yes, sir,” I said. “My ex-boyfriend used to make it for me.”

  I shouldn’t have brought up Alex. I hadn’t planned to, but the Italian food reminded me of him. Then I started thinking of Wes and how stupid I’d been, and that brought a dip in my mood that Celeste seemed to notice.

  She edged toward me on her chair. “Don’t be sad. You’ll find another boyfriend soon.”

  Ned obviously hadn’t told her I’d already done that. And I didn’t want to mention how it had turned out, so I steered the conversation elsewhere.

  “Has Ned ever been here?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “This is the first time I’ve invited him.”

  I nodded, wishing Ned would get here already so we could sort things out between us and everyone could start eating. They waited patiently and talked about other things, and then one of the kids knocked over a glass of wine that splashed onto his mother’s blouse.

  “You know where to take that,” Celeste’s father said with a laugh. “Don’t let me catch you at my competitors’ place.”

  “What does he mean?” I asked Celeste.

  “My parents own a chain of dry cleaners in all five boroughs,” she said.

  That explained Jamaica Estates and this expensive house. I nodded again, and I looked across the table at one of Celeste’s brothers. He had a shaved head and big shoulders, and he checked his watch before he spoke up.

  “Celeste,” he said, “where is this guy?”

  “Chris,” she said reprovingly, “his name is Ned, and he isn’t just a guy … I’m dating him, and he’s Savannah’s brother. I’m sure he’ll be here any minute.”

  He wasn’t, though. And he didn’t pick up his phone when Celeste called, and he didn’t return her voice mail. It didn’t take much longer for Chris to lose his patience.

  “Pass the soppressata,” he said. “I’m not waiting anymore.”

  His mother handed him a plate. Everyone started eating, but Celeste didn’t and I couldn’t.

  “Something must’ve come up,” I told her, even though I doubted it.

  “Then why doesn’t he call?” she asked, staring at her phone like that would make it ring.

  “I’m sure he will,” I said, which I didn’t believe, either. But I kept hoping and didn’t stop until dinner was over and everybody started getting up from their chairs so they could go into the living room for dessert. “Celeste,” I began, trying to find something comforting to say, but she didn’t give me a chance. She held up her hand, shoved back her chair, and put on a brave face.

  “Don’t worry about it, Savannah,” she said. “It isn’t your fault.”

  That wasn’t exactly true. I’d initiated this whole thing. But I couldn’t tell her that, so I stayed quiet in my seat, watching her open a set of double doors that led to the living room. Chris walked through them and into the dining room, and he tried to say something nice to her, but she brushed him off and stomped away. Then he glanced at me and closed the doors.

  “Do you know what went on with Celeste’s fiancé?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I said glumly.

  He nodded. “What happened today … she doesn’t deserve it. You seem to be a sweet girl and I don’t mean to offend you … but if your brother doesn’t have a damn good reason for not being here, then he isn’t worthy of my sister. You can tell him I said that.”

  I intended to. I left a few minutes later and asked Tony to drive me to Ned’s building, where I stormed through the lobby and toward the concierge.

  “Mr. Stone asks the reason for your visit,” she said after calling his apartment.

  This routine again. “His missing heart,” I told her.

  She looked at me strangely but gave Ned my answer, and soon I was at his door. He opened it and stood in his front hall, wearing jeans and a black T-shirt.

  “My missing heart?” he said. “Should I assume that has something to do with my disapproval of your relationship with Wesley Caldwell?”

  I’d been so angry about what he’d done to Celeste that Wes wasn’t even on my mind. “I have no relationship with Wesley Caldwell,” I said brusquely, clomping past Ned and into the apartment with its gray walls and view of the East River. I saw business documents scattered across the L-shaped couch and Chinese takeout on the coffee table.

  “When did this happen?” Ned asked, still lingering by the open door. “Was it after you decided you didn’t want a possible murderer as a future father-in-law?”

  “I guess Caroline passed along my message,” I said as I stood in the living room.

  He nodded. “The PI is looking into Jonathan. Now tell me what happened with Wes.”

  I wasn’t in the mood to talk about this now, but I did anyway. “I think he was playing me all along. He pretended to have no idea who I was when we met, but I found out otherwise. He was probably plotting what you suspected.”

  Ned closed the door. “So you’re here to concede that I was right?”

  “I was planning to do that in Jamaica Estates,” I said. “But you weren’t there.”

  He walked slowly toward me.
“Why were you in Jamaica Estates?”

  “I was going to apologize for doubting your motives about Wes, and Celeste invited me to dinner so I could see you. She’s a very thoughtful person.”

  “I know,” he said as he joined me in the living room.

  “Do you?” I asked tersely. “Then why didn’t you show up?”

  He nodded toward the papers on the couch. “I was working. I couldn’t make it.”

  I glared at him. “Why not just tell her that?”

  He headed toward the couch, where he sat down on the longest part of the L and snatched a pen from beside a carton of moo goo gai pan. “It was better not to. That’s why.”

  Ned started reading a contract like I’d already left. I stared at him for a moment before I walked around the coffee table and sat on the shorter section of the couch, where I put down my purse and sank into the black leather. “Ned,” I began in a low and seething voice, “how can it be better to stand her up and humiliate her in front of her family instead of giving her a reasonable excuse? She’ll probably never speak to you again.”

  “That’s the idea,” he said as he flipped a page.

  Was he serious? “You swore you wouldn’t hurt her. Remember that?”

  “Yes,” he said, keeping his eyes on the contract. “Not hurting her is exactly what I’m trying to do.”

  I punched the couch. “That makes no sense. You’ve fixed it so she’ll probably never trust a man again. First she gets left at the altar, and—”

  “She what?” he said, finally looking at me.

  “You heard me. Her fiancé bailed on their wedding just like you bailed on her today.”

  Ned leaned his head back as he studied the ceiling. “Jesus Christ,” he said. “I didn’t know that. Why didn’t you tell me that?”

  “Because no girl wants her most degrading moments advertised to a new boyfriend.”

  He shook his head. “I wasn’t her boyfriend. It was just a casual thing … a few lunch dates, dinner twice … and we never even had sex. It was nothing.”