I looked up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She walked around the kitchen counter to sit with me at the bar.
“It means…” She sighed. “It means have you finally figured out that this girl is nothing but trouble? I mean, I hoped you had, considering you haven’t seen her at all for the last couple of months, right?”
I opened my mouth to tell her that there was nothing going on, that she didn’t need to ask that question, and that I was doing just fine on my own. But found I couldn’t say any of it. I hadn’t been lying to my sister for the last three months, exactly, but I certainly hadn’t told her that Nina and I were engaged either. Maybe it was even a little exciting, at first, waiting until Frankie had left for the day while Nina waited at a cafe around the block. Ten minutes later, a knock at my door, and Nina and I were consecrating our to-be marriage all over my damn house. Yeah, it was fun sneaking around. Sometimes.
But most days were heavier. Every time I saw Frankie or anyone else in my family, the news of my engagement was on my tongue. I had to endure strange looks when I protested a little too loudly at the idea of being set up with another friend’s daughter or told Frankie I was staying the night at Quinn’s (instead of the Grace). I didn’t like lying to my family. Even when I was sleeping my way around New York City, they still knew about it, to some extent. Now I had someone in my life who would be my wife, and God willing, the mother of my children at some point. And I couldn’t tell a soul.
Suddenly I was full of action. I needed to get out of this house. I needed to get out of this city. More than anything, I needed to see the one person with whom I could be completely honest, even if it was just to sit next to her and pretend I was nothing but a family friend.
“I’m leaving,” I told Frankie. “Give Sofie a kiss for me.”
“Where are you going?” she called. “We never get to see you!”
“Job hunting,” I lied yet again, hating myself even more. “Don’t wait up.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nina
“Oh, Jane, it’s marvelous. It truly is.”
I examined myself in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors Jane had installed on one side of the room, making the space look more like a dance studio than a place for clothing design. The mannequins scattered around the perimeter were the giveaways, along with the enormous table, sewing machine, various bolts of fabric, and stacks of sketches and designs that Jane had been working on for the last several months. Since receiving her admittance into the Fashion Institute of Technology MFA program in March, my cousin-in-law had thrown herself headfirst into her new career.
“All these other fashion twinkies will have spent the last few years as elves in some workshop or another,” she told me when I had found her sketching furiously. “Me, I’ve got a useless law degree and a closet full of homemade clothes. I need to catch up.”
As it happened, I was thrilled for her. Since her abduction last year and the loss of her and Eric’s baby, I had watched them both cycle through multiple stages of grief and frustration, particularly as Calvin’s involvement in John Carson’s schemes became more evident. The fact that they had also been trying for a baby for months without any success made things that much more difficult.
So, when Jane announced her intention to apply to FIT last fall, Eric and I had both encouraged her, culminating with Eric’s announcement of her early acceptance at the Christmas party. It was the most animated I’d seen her since she lost the baby, and it was obvious that Eric was equally thrilled with her progress as she threw herself into her new work.
She also had genuine talent. To the point where I had asked her to design my dress for the MET gala instead of going through one of the couture houses as I would normally. Though Jane alone was serving on the planning committee this year, the family had received its customary invitations, largely because of the donation Eric had made in our grandmother’s name (at my suggestion). This provided an endowment large enough to fund an entire new wing of the Costume Institute, Celeste’s favorite part of the Metropolitan Museum. It had only been possible after the will was finalized with the state and the executor had fully transferred all assets into everyone’s names.
I might have been more satisfied that Calvin had lost his battle in probate court if I had seen a penny of my inheritance. Unfortunately, it seemed another addendum was in the will that had not been read aloud in her office.
“I’m so sorry, Ms. de Vries,” said Thomas Clark, the lawyer who had been appointed the executor of Celeste’s estate and will. “I simply didn’t think it was important at the time given the fact that you and Mr. Gardner were still married.”
I sat in the middle of the office where my family had just gathered to accept their assorted documents and deeds containing their apportioned shares and inheritances from Celeste’s estate. It was heady business, dividing up a seventeen-billion-dollar empire. The majority of it went to Eric, of course, in his role as the family heir and CEO of De Vries Shipping, as well as primary trustee over the various accounts designated for maintaining the properties Grandmother had bequeathed to other family members.
I, however, had asked to stay behind. Because there was a problem with my own inheritance.
“So, what does it say?” I asked. “That I lose everything in the event of a divorce?”
I was struggling not to shake. Or throw my purse across the room. Just when I believed I was mistaken about all the wrongs I thought Grandmother had committed, this confirmed my worst nightmare—that she really did prefer I stay in a loveless and abusive marriage just to protect the family legacy.
“There’s nothing in here about divorce,” Clark said uneasily. “But there is a stipulation about a legal separation. You were to receive one bequest if you were married to Mr. Gardner. The seventy-five million and your apartment on Lexington Avenue. But there was fine print here that if you and Mr. Gardner separated during probate, your inheritance was to be frozen until your relationship was resolved.”
“And…if we divorced?” I couldn’t believe this. I could not believe this.
The lawyer shook his head. “This document says nothing about divorce. Which in this case has been interpreted by the court to mean…you may receive nothing at all. I’m sorry, Ms. de Vries.”
The shaking increased. I was right. I was right the entire time.
“So you’re saying I’m effectively broke?” I asked. “You do realize that the rest of my personal assets have been frozen as a result of this divorce, do you not? I am currently living on an allowance from my cousin, and the majority of my trust will probably end up going to my ex-husband. I will have nothing if this is true.”
“Mr. de Vries seems to be a generous sort,” said Clark uneasily. “Perhaps you might take this up to him, considering he sits on the board of your trust as well. He may loan you money against it.”
“So I’m supposed to live the rest of my life begging as a poor relation?” I asked. “I cannot believe that is truly what she wanted!”
“Either that, or perhaps you may consider seeking employment.”
“Excuse me?” I asked.
The lawyer tilted his head. It was almost as if he were enjoying this.
“In layman’s terms, perhaps your grandmother wanted you to get a job.”
“I just don’t know.”
Jane’s voice pulled me out of my daydream—or day-mare, as it were. I couldn’t get the lawyer’s voice out of my mind. Or the despair I felt whenever I thought of the conversation that had taken place last week. Perhaps I wouldn’t have minded if I weren’t qualified for so little. I doubted I could even get a job as a waitress if I wanted. I really did have nothing.
Jane walked in half circles around me, clutching a pincushion in one hand, a notebook in the other, and a pencil in her mouth as she examined me. This year’s theme of “Athens” was somewhat less complex than last year, in my opinion. I expected to see a lot of versions of what I was wearing—toga-like gowns meant to evok
e the classic sculptures of Aphrodite and Athena. Mine was ice-blue silk, but Jane had done some truly ingenious embroidery around the hem and over my shoulder with silver thread that sparkled as I moved.
“Hey,” she said. “Cheer up. You know Eric and I aren’t going to let you go hungry.”
The pity on her face was sweet, but it didn’t help.
“I’ve been taking advantage of the two of you for months now,” I said. “It’s becoming embarrassing. Olivia comes home in a month. What are we going to do? Live in your basement?”
“Well, I was thinking more the guest rooms on the third floor, but whatever you want.” Jane crouched to the floor and started fussing with the hem of the dress. “If you really want to be on your own, Eric will get you an apartment.”
“Yes. I’ll think about it. But honestly, if we need space, we can just stay at Mother’s. She’ll be at the Hamptons all summer anyway.”
I didn’t add that in either arrangement, I would still be dependent on the generosity of my family. And for the first time in my life, I found the idea extremely distasteful. Just a few months ago, I had plans to return to school, but I couldn’t even do that. According to my lawyers and Eric, it apparently made more sense now for me to stay close to Olivia’s primary residence in order to avoid charges of abandonment (despite the fact that I would have literally been closer in Boston).
I hated every minute of it. I wanted to strike out on my own so badly I could taste it. Matthew really was rubbing off on me.
“Well, maybe Calvin will agree to the terms of the latest settlement next week and you’ll be free,” Jane said as she stood again.
“Wouldn’t that be nice?” I muttered.
So far, every one of Eric’s increasingly bloated offers to Calvin on my behalf had been shut down. My husband hadn’t moved on his demands, which he argued were all the more reasonable given the fact that the judge presiding over our divorce had indeed sided with his claims that he had signed our prenuptial agreement under duress.
“Hey,” Jane said, taking my wrist and shaking it slightly. “Snap out of it. You’re literally going to a ball in about four days. Isn’t that supposed to be what most girls dream of?”
I sighed and went behind the privacy screen in the corner where I could change but talk at the same time.
“Sometimes I feel like the balls are the prison,” I said as I carefully pulled off the gown, then handed it over the screen to Jane. “I’m locked in a beautiful house of mirrors.”
“Every house has its exit, though.”
Jane looked like she understood. And she did, a little. But she had only been in this family for a few years. I had been trying to find that exit my entire life.
“They do,” I agreed as I stepped into my shift dress. “But every time I think I’ve found a way out, it’s just another mirror. And then somehow it smashes.”
Jane looked like she wanted to say something else, but before she could, there was a knock on the door. We turned to find Eric entering just as I was stepping out from behind the screens.
“Are you two about done?” he asked. “Because look who showed up. I invited him for lunch.”
He stepped aside to reveal Matthew stepping into the room.
“Zola!” Jane cried as she immediately engulfed him in a hug. “We haven’t seen you for months. How are you? Is everything all right?”
Matthew returned her embrace, but his eyes darted immediately to me. Full of warmth, and love, and…sadness?
Oh, dear.
“I’m good, Jane. I’m all right.”
She released him, and he rubbed the back of his neck. It was then I noticed he was dressed in a suit instead of the more casual fare I’d grown accustomed to over the last several months. This one was a beautiful gray-blue gabardine, with a navy tie and a crisp white shirt. A far cry from the dull black pants he typically wore to the bar, or the less formal chinos and sweaters he wore when we were able to sneak away to see each other during the day. He had gone somewhere important today.
“Nina,” he greeted me with a nod. “Nice to see you again.”
Jane looked eagerly between us with that same expression she’d worn since we had returned from Italy. We hadn’t told anyone of our engagement—or even that we were involved, thinking it would be best not to risk it for everyone’s sake during the trial. But now it was over. Wasn’t it?
“It’s nice to see you too, Matthew,” I said. “Jane, would you mind zipping me up?”
“I’ll do it.”
Matthew quickly crossed the room and turned me around, his hands firm at my waist. His fingers danced up my back ever-so-briefly before he pulled my zipper closed.
“There,” he murmured as his fingers drifted down my shoulders. “You’re perfect.”
“Looks like someone has a crush,” Jane murmured to Eric, who just shook his head at her.
“Mind your business, pretty girl.”
As Jane and Eric became absorbed in their own repartee, I turned to find Matthew looking at me with the ever-present love and heat that never seemed to fade no matter how often we managed to slip away to the Grace or his house in Brooklyn when his sister was gone.
His gaze flickered down to my bare neck.
“It’s in my purse,” I murmured so only he could hear, knowing he was wondering where my chain—and its ring—was. “I had to take it off for the fitting.”
He nodded briefly, then turned around so we were facing Jane and Eric and standing a solid three feet apart.
“So, you’re staying for lunch?” Jane said, her cheeks slightly reddened from whatever Eric had whispered in her ear.
Matthew nodded. “If you don’t mind me crashing. I was in the neighborhood…”
“Of course, of course!” Jane said. “You don’t even have to ask, Zola, really.”
“It’s fine,” Eric concurred, though a bit less excitedly. “We’re having chicken. One of Jane’s mom’s recipes, I think.”
“Eric! Is Jane down there?”
Eric popped his head out of the room toward the stairs. “Yeah, what’s up, Tony?”
“There’s a couple of guys here with a truck full of boxes for Jane. Can she come verify? I don’t want to have them brought in until she says. It’s a lot.”
“Oh!” Jane erupted and clapped her hands like a small child. “Yes! That’s the new fabric from Paris! Eric, wait until you see this. I have big plans for your next suit!”
Eric rolled his eyes at me, as if playing dress-up for his wife was just about humoring her. But the glimmer in his eyes and quirk of a smile at the corner of his lips told me he was more than happy to be her mannequin.
The two of them tromped up the stairs to look at the new shipment, leaving Matthew and me alone in the room. As soon as they were gone, Matthew slipped a hand around my waist and crushed me against his chest. He didn’t kiss me, just held me tight. My arms wound around his neck, and I found myself wanting to be as close as I could. Immediately, a sense of safety and homecoming coursed through me. This was where I belonged. I never felt quite at home except for these scant minutes I was with him.
After several long breaths, he released me and brushed a few errant hairs back from my face.
“Hello,” I said as I stroked his cheek.
Then he did kiss me, slow and sweet before offering a melancholy smile. “Hi, beautiful.”
“What are you doing here today? I wasn’t expecting to see you until tomorrow.” I was supposed to be coming to his house just after nine, after his sister was gone for the day.
He pressed his forehead to mine and exhaled, sounding as weary as I felt. “I just really needed to see you. I hope that’s all right.”
“Of course it’s all right. But what happened? You look like you’ve been run over by a taxi.”
He sighed again, then dropped to the loveseat behind us and scrubbed his face with his hands. “I was fired today, baby.”
“What?” I sank beside him. “Oh, Matthew, that’s terrible.�
��
“Cardozo called me in to discuss the verdict. Hence the suit.” He gestured at himself. “Like an idiot, I thought it might mean I was going back to work, so I dressed for the occasion. Just, the opposite, though.”
“Well, for what it’s worth, you look very dashing.”
The corner of Matthew’s mouth tugged upward, but no smile emerged.
“What happened, then?” I pressed. “Calvin knows nothing, I’m sure of it. He would have said.”
“It was Ruggeri, that prosecutor I met in Florence. I don’t know why, but apparently she called the DA to make sure I was legit. Except he didn’t know why I had taken leave. And he wasn’t too happy to find out that I had gone with you to Italy.”
Guilt lodged in the pit of my stomach. It must have been all over my face, because Matthew immediately wrapped an arm around my shoulders.
“Hey, hey, shh,” he comforted me, pulled me in to his chest. “It’s not your fault. I put myself on that damn plane, Nina. I didn’t have a choice.”
It didn’t help. Would there ever be a day when my presence in his life wasn’t completely destructive? He didn’t have a choice? Was he just willingly throwing himself onto the fire?
“I just don’t know what I’m going to do,” he continued. “I can’t keep working at the bar. To start, I just don’t earn enough. I’m barely making ends meet right now, but the idea of begging for a job with some nasty criminal defense firm makes my skin crawl.”
“Not everyone who needs a defense lawyer is terrible,” I told him. “I needed one, didn’t I?”
He looked up. “That’s different. You also have a habit of martyring yourself for the people you love.”
“And you don’t? Who’s the one who works day and night at that terrible bar so he can take care of his sister and niece?”
We blinked at each other. This, I supposed, was what they called a stalemate.
“Maybe,” he said. “But it’s not just that. I’ve spent my career fighting the rest of those assholes, and I can promise you, baby, they aren’t exactly as altruistic as you are.”
The Honest Affair (Rose Gold Book 3) Page 23