By the time I turned fourteen, I’d been living with Seren and Dave for almost nine months. I was helping with a lot of things around the Inn, and they even paid me for some of it. One of the things I did was help tidy rooms when the cleaning staff called in sick.
I was actually the person who unlocked the room and found Bea hiding in there. She was a year younger than me—thirteen years old. She was also asleep at one in the afternoon.
Seren and Dave had a powwow, and they let me stick around for it. The more we found out about poor little Beatrice, the more they wanted to intercede. But I’ll never forget what the caseworker said when Seren asked to foster her.
“With what you know about the complications of this girl’s background, why would you want to get involved? She can never be adopted, and she’s got major behavioral deficiencies.”
Seren’s smile was sad, and it took me a moment to realize why. She didn’t pity Beatrice. She pitied the social worker for not understanding what Seren thought was one of life’s great truths. “I want to be involved precisely because no one else does.”
That’s family.
Seren didn’t even know Bea—certainly she knew her less than my grandmother knows Elizabeth. But when she saw a need and she had the capacity to help, she felt that she needed to do it. That’s always been the kind of person she is. Maybe it’s because she was so very unlucky for so long. Or maybe she was built with a shocking capacity for love.
Either way, that’s how I know my grandmother’s wrong.
She wanted to teach me a lesson, but I’ve already learned plenty of lessons from a much better teacher. You don’t help people because you owe them. You don’t help people because they’re worthy. You do it because you can, and because maybe no one else will.
“Hey, at least she’s donating ten grand.” Elizabeth pokes at the top of her soufflé and watches it jiggle. “That’s better than nothing.”
I’m not sure how she’s so impassive. “You have to be disappointed.”
She shrugs. “I mean, sure. But it was always a Hail Mary. Those almost never work.”
“One in twelve,” I say. “Or that’s what my coach told me in high school.”
“You played football?” I hate how shocked she looks.
“For one glorious season,” I say. “Then I got sacked, broke my collarbone, and Mom forbade it.” I can’t help chuckling. “She really tried to support us in anything, but she wasn’t built for football. She bit her nails to the quick during those three months.”
“I want to meet her,” Elizabeth says.
Everyone’s better for meeting Seren. “I’d like that.” Except, then I remember that we’re not really dating. So there’s no reason for her to meet either of my parents. Not really. And in fact, meeting Dave and Seren might just lead to more questions. Not only now, but when I get back together with Lisa.
“You would?” She looks excited, which is bad.
I clear my throat and change the subject. “How did you stay so calm? Were you really assuming we’d fail?”
“Do I look calm?” Elizabeth’s smile could be on the face of the queen—serene and confident.
“You do.”
She sighs. “Years of practice, I suppose. My entire life was a study in disappointment.”
Disappointment? I really don’t know her at all.
But that makes me think about what she said about coming up with more money. “Where would you get the rest of the money for a downpayment?” I didn’t think it would be something bad—she seemed so calm and matter-of-fact about it. But if she always looks that way. . . It makes me nervous.
She spears a bite of her soufflé.
“Elizabeth.”
She shrugs. “I’m going to sell my horse.”
“You have a horse?”
“I have a show jumper I ride, when I have time,” she says.
“Oh.” Poor little rich girl. I’ve been feeling bad for her, spending her trust fund on the animals, but she has a horse who must be worth a lot of money, if she can sell him for close to eighty grand. “Well, that’s good, I guess.”
But this time, her smile looks forced. “Yeah, things always work out.”
“Do they?” I stare intently at her face.
She broadens her smile, but her eyes look dead.
“Something’s wrong.”
She shakes her head. “I knew it might come down to this. If I can sell one animal—to a good home—to save all the others, then I should. It’s a no-brainer.”
But I imagine she loves him. If her parents bought her the horse, and they want to make her grow up, I doubt they’ll buy her a new one. “If you sell this horse, will you have one to ride?”
She inhales slowly. “I can always find another one.”
“How did you find this one?”
Her lip trembles. “He was being thrown away.” She drags in another breath. “He was a six-year-old who had won quite a bit of money on the track. An iron warrior. But his career was over, and they didn’t need him.”
“That sounds a little sad.”
“When racehorses make it through that long, they really are insanely strong. I knew it the second I saw him.”
And there it is. She loves this horse. It’s breaking her heart to sell him. Suddenly, I decide that I won’t let her. “Let’s find another way.”
She drops the fork and shoves the plate forward, standing up. “There is no other way, Emerson. But thanks for wishing there was.”
“You can’t sell him. You clearly love him.”
“I do love him, but it’s one animal against many.” She nods. “Your grandmother was right.”
“She wasn’t. Love isn’t quantitative. It’s qualitative. And you love that horse, so you should look for other ways to help the animals you’ve pledged to save.”
“Speaking of,” she says. “I need to get home and work on some social media posts to get more people out to the shelter. I have ten days before those animals have to go back to the facility I saved them from.”
“Sometimes you can’t worry about numbers. My grandmother was right about one thing—you matter more than all those animals, because it’s your life. You have done great things for all of them for the past six years, but you can’t save anyone if you’re not okay.”
“I’m fine. Trust me. This setback is nothing.”
I think it may be her burning desire to help that makes me want to help her. It reminds me of Seren, actually. She’s not as solid, not as organized, maybe. But it’s there—the self-sacrifice—and that’s not something I expected to find in a trust fund baby. “I think—”
Before I can convince her to delay selling that horse, my phone rings. We both look down at it.
It’s Lisa.
“You can answer,” she says. “It’s been long enough.”
My hand shakes a little as I pick up the call. “Hello?”
“You finally answered.”
“I’ve been busy,” I say. “I’m sorry. I meant to call you back, but you beat me to it.”
“I want to see you,” Lisa says. “Can we meet?”
I glance at Elizabeth.
She nods.
“Sure,” I say. “Where?”
“Our place.”
“Okay. I’m about twenty minutes away.”
“See you then.”
I can’t believe I’m going to see Lisa. “She wants to get back together, right?”
Elizabeth shrugs. “Probably.”
“Oh, man.”
“Do you want to do that yet?” She glances up the stairs where my grandmother just disappeared. “I doubt she’s ready for it yet.”
I sigh. “I’m not sure I care.”
“It’s only been a few days, but you’re already sick of being rich.” Her lip’s twitching.
“I’m sick of having a miserable, old—”
Elizabeth grabs my arm and drags me out the front door. “Maybe don’t insult her in her dining room.”
“I’m sure her staff agrees with me.”
“I’m not sure they do,” she says. “I’ve known a lot of them for a long time, and one thing I will say for your grandmother. A lot of rich people go through employees like Kleenex, but she doesn’t. She’s had the same gate guard, the same butler, and the same dining room staff for more than ten years.”
That’s surprising.
“I’m not her family,” Elizabeth says. “She’s right about that. She has a lot of money, but if she started giving it to every sad story she met, she’d be poorer than me within a month. Trust me on this one. The number of hands held out, asking for money, would shock you.”
“But she won’t budge on anything.”
“She’s old,” Elizabeth says, “but that doesn’t mean she’s wrong. She’s seen a lot of things. I think sometimes we get so set in the idea that we’re right that we don’t even check whether someone else might also be right.”
I peer at her. “Are you really Gandhi, reincarnated?”
She laughs. “I’m not, but Emerson. I have a lot to do, and I know we’re fake.” She sighs. “But we’re also very, very new. I’m assuming you wanted me to fake date you to mollify your grandmother long enough that she might change her mind about all the rules. If that’s your goal, we aren’t there yet. Don’t be like me and back yourself into a corner.”
I can’t help thinking about how we failed to help her shelter. “Do you even want to keep dating me? The shelter’s being sold.”
“Are you kidding? I’ll need your help more than ever. I’ve got to come up with funds for a new shelter, the move, and turning whatever crap pile I buy into something workable.”
“But—”
“The donations from Bentley and your grandmother weren’t what you wanted, maybe, but they’re still my two single biggest donations this year.”
“You’re kidding.”
She shrugs. “It’s been a rough year. I had no idea how easy I had it the first year or two when it was a new thing to most everyone. Now, six years in, they’re kind of tired of me asking, and they usually hide when they see me coming.” She’s acting like it’s humorous, but it’s got to sting a little.
“Well, I’m a novelty, so they seem to beeline toward me.”
“Another reason I’m not ready to lose my trophy boyfriend yet.”
“What if Lisa says she wants me to break up with you or she’ll move on?”
She smiles. “She won’t. She’s decided she shouldn’t have dumped you, and you looked happy the last time she saw you. She’ll expect it to take a bit to win you back. You have some time.”
“How do you know this stuff?”
“Have you ever tried to read something in Russian?”
“Not really.”
“They have a different alphabet—it looks like nonsense, unless you’ve learned how to read it. That’s women, only we’re even more complicated. We use a different phonetic system too. Since I am one, I can speak it and read it. Consider me your interpreter.”
“Russian. That’s funny.”
“So Emerson, go see her, but be strong. Tell her you missed her, but you’ve finally figured out how to be happy. That’ll make her push even harder, so you’ll have to stand firm and tell her you need more time to think about it.”
I nod.
But when I reach the ice cream shop where we had our first date, Lisa’s not there. I wait another five minutes, but it’s already been thirty. Could something have happened? I text her. WHERE ARE YOU?She calls.
“Hello?”
“I’ve been waiting here for ten minutes already. I knew that woman would try to stop you.”
That woman. Sheesh. It’s not like Elizabeth is such a hard name to remember. “No, I’m here.” I glance around. Other than two moms with their three kids, no one else is. “The store’s empty. Are you in the bathroom?”
“Where are you?” she asks.
“By the front window.”
“No, what store, I mean?”
“I’m at the Scoop Shop,” I say. “Where are you?”
“I’m at Giannoni’s.” She huffs. “Why did you think our place was an ice cream shop?”
“We had our first date here. And we came here on our first anniversary. We shared the banana split both times.”
“But we ate lunch here every Monday for more than a year.” She sounds really annoyed.
“I’m sorry,” I say. “I thought you—you know what, it’s fine. I’ll come to you.”
“Fine.” She hangs up.
As I drive to Giannoni’s, I begin to panic a little. She didn’t sound like someone who was going to ask me to get back together with her. She sounded annoyed.
I call Elizabeth. “I’m confused. The Russian is making no sense.”
“What happened?”
I explain.
She laughs. “Oh, Emerson. That’s too funny. She’s not mad at you. She’s embarrassed, and it serves her right. She said to meet at your place as an emotional manipulation. She wanted you to remember that you two have history—a shared place. Only, you clearly don’t, because you didn’t think of the same place.” She’s still laughing.
“But that means it’s going really badly,” I say. “Help.”
“You want it to go a little poorly,” Elizabeth says. “Trust me on this. The more off balance she feels, the more she’ll understand why you want space.”
“Okay. Right. Okay.” I hang up.
And then I walk into the Italian eatery that’s our place, apparently. She’s already ordered—and she got one sandwich. The club, which is fine, but it’s annoying. For over a year, I picked all the meat off, and she’d add it to her half. She likes double meat, and I’m vegetarian. But then my sandwich tastes like meat, which always makes me vaguely nauseated.
I force a smile, which is silly. I should be truly happy. It’s not my original plan, but this one is working.
“Hey.” She wiggles her fingers in a tiny wave I used to think was cute. Only, now it bugs me.
Why don’t I like it? I’m probably just in a funk. It’s been a weird day. “Hi.” I sit across from her.
She slides my half of the sandwich toward me on the paper—she always keeps the plate for herself. I shake my head. “I’m not hungry.”
“Oh?”
“I just ate.”
She frowns. “You did?”
“Never mind,” I say. “You can have all of it.”
“Okay.”
Watching as she splits the meat back out and puts it on the half I don’t want is a little awkward. She’s wiping the mayo off her hands when I say, “What did you want to talk about?”
“Why?” She looks really irritated. “Are we keeping your girlfriend waiting?”
“Elizabeth’s working, actually,” I say. “She was just leaving when you called, so it was good timing.”
“She knows you’re here?”
I nod.
“She just let you come?” Her brows furrow. “Really?”
“It’s not like she owns me.”
“Well, here’s the thing. At first, after we broke up, I really missed you, but I thought it would get better. Only, it never did.” She bites her lip. “I know we were always worried Daddy would find out about us, but I don’t care anymore. I want to get back together.”
“You think he’ll suddenly like me now?”
Her shoulders droop, and she drops the sandwich back onto the plate. “I don’t know.”
“Probably not, then. I was still fired.”
“About that,” she says. “The audit team realized it wasn’t you who made the mistake. You’ll be getting a letter about it.”
“They’re offering me my job back?”
She grimaces. “Not exactly. They already told the clients it was you, so that would be awkward, but they’re formally apologizing, and they’re offering to recommend you.”
“Oh, well. The whole thing hardly hurt me, then.” I wish I didn’t sound so bitter.
“But you have a new job, now,” she says. “You said.”
I hate all the lying. I have to lie about Elizabeth, but I’m sick of lying about my job. “Not exactly.”
“What?”
“I mean, I am working every day, but it’s not a new job precisely.”
“What’s going on?” She leans closer, her elbow squishing the edge of the sandwich. I shouldn’t care, but it bothers me for some reason, her inattention to stuff like that.
Focus, Emerson. “So, the thing is, the other day, I happened upon something strange. You know I never knew my dad.”
She frowns. “Your dad and mom run an inn.”
“Right, but I mean my birth dad.”
“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that.”
She forgot? “Anyway, the point is that my birth dad died, and I happened to be at his funeral. I met my grandmother, and she’s. . .”
“Is she happy to see you?”
“Sort of,” I say. “It’s a little weird. But basically, she’s teaching me about the family business to see if I’d be a good fit to take over now that my dad’s dead. She doesn’t really have anyone else.”
“What’s the family business?” She sounds nervous now.
I consider saying that I’m studying to be a plumber. But that’s stupid. I don’t want to lie to her. I’m trying to be as honest as possible. “It turns out that my grandmother’s named Catherine Richmond, and she owns a company called Richmond Steel.”
“I’ve heard of that company,” Lisa says. “Wait, do you mean the biggest steel manufacturer in America? Are you serious?”
I nod.
“That’s—wow. That feels like something that would only happen in a book written by an epically talented author.”
I shrug. “Or maybe a mediocre one. Who knows?”
“It sounds like a fantastic story to me.”
“Not if you’re the protagonist in it, believe me. My grandmother didn’t exactly welcome me into her life. She wants to control me—including who I date.”
Lisa leans back, her mouth dropping open, and her eyes closing briefly. “That makes so much more sense. Your grandma’s making you date that snobby, rich girl.”
“Something like that, though I do really like her,” I say.
“You’re too genuine to ever fake something that big.” Her expression softens. “But you can’t care about her that much. It’s been, what, a week? And even if you’re stuck dating her, we can surely still talk. Right?”
“I really am dating Elizabeth,” I say. “And if I make my grandmother angry by ignoring her advice—”
“She cuts you off.” Lisa bobs her head. “Say no more. I totally understand.”
“So the thing is. . .”
She reaches across the table and rests her hand on mine. “Emerson, I’m here for you. Whatever you need. And I’ll wait as long as it takes for you to win your grandmother over with your amazing charm.”
Instead of being delighted, for some reason I feel uncomfortable. I tug my hand away and nod. “Okay. Great, I guess.”