Page 13 of Love and Lies

My mother and I were alone in the elevator, which gave her a chance to cast her eye over me. “You look good.” She fiddled with my bow tie. “This is much better than the usual boy-next-door image you go for.”

“I think I’d get some funny looks in my bars and restaurants if I started turning up to business meetings in a tux,” I replied, not without sarcasm. I always felt like I was in costume when I wore this type of getup. “Is there anyone here we’re trying to make a particular impression on?”

Trish shook her head. “No. I mean, I’ve been wanting to talk to Bill Jefferson for weeks about a building plot on Wall Street, but I believe only his daughter is attending this evening—and I’m certainly not about to let you loose on her.”

“How come?” I raised my eyebrows. “Are you afraid I might seduce her while they’re singing your praises up onstage?”

Her expression hardened. “Is there any danger of that?” Apparently, she hadn’t forgotten previous incidents of a similar nature.

“Of course not,” I reassured her. Society girls weren’t my type. A few years ago it might have amused me to cause a bit of a stir by letting loose with one or two of them, but those days were over.

“Good.” My mother nodded. “And otherwise? Is there anyone among all your short-term girlfriends I should meet?”

I had to laugh at the absurd turn this conversation was taking. “Are you serious, Trish? You really want to know who I’m going to bed with?”

“No. Not unless there’s anyone among them who leaves a lasting impression. Then I want to know.”

“What, so you can screen them?” I snorted. “Forget it.” I would never let her anywhere near a woman who meant something to me.

“Okay,” she said offhandedly. “Go and find yourself an irresponsible party girl, then, just like your brother. What could possibly go wrong?” She snorted. “If I’d been more firm when it came to Valerie, Adam might still be alive. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

“In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not really into irresponsible party girls,” I said, emphasizing the words exactly as she had.

My mother raised an eyebrow. “Oh no? Who was that little brunette at the opening night of that restaurant in the Village, then? The one you went home with, if the online gossip is to be believed? She looked quite the part.”

I sighed. “Really, Trish, I’m flattered that you google me, but there’s no need to worry. Samara is a whiskey sommelier, not a party girl. And we’re just friends.” The fact that we sometimes also had sex was beside the point. I didn’t want to get into anything serious with anyone in New York City—Sam knew that and didn’t have a problem with it. And besides, she was only in town every few weeks anyway.

“If you say so,” my mother said. But I didn’t try any harder to convince her that I wasn’t about to make the same mistake as Adam. Her fear was too deeply ingrained, and it would take more than a few protestations to rid her of it. I also had no interest in trying.

The elevator pinged melodically, the doors slid open, and I offered my mother my arm as we stepped out.

Most of the other guests were already assembled in the Rainbow Room when we arrived, standing around in small groups near the entrance and being served champagne. Naturally, word got around fast that the guest of honor had arrived, and the mayor extricated himself from his conversation to come over and greet us.

“Trish, a pleasure to have you with us. And Jessiah, how good of you to accompany your mother.” He beamed at her. “You really are lucky, my darling. My son would never attend an event like this.”

Smart guy, I thought, while my mother greeted the mayor, then I extended my hand. “Thank you for the invitation, sir. How is Mitchell, by the way?” Last time we’d met, he told me his son went to Yale.

“Oh, he’s having a great time, if the credit card bills are anything to go by. How his studies are going, I couldn’t tell you.”

I laughed. This was why I liked Mayor Roscott—he wasn’t as stuck-up as most of the others here. “I can imagine. And Chester? Is his leg any better?”

“Thank you for your concern—he’s chasing cats again as if nothing happened.” Roscott was nonplussed. “I’m amazed you remember. When was it we last saw each other, November?”

“It was December.” I nodded politely. “At the children’s charity benefit gala.”

The mayor turned back to my mother. “Trish, you have to tell me how you did it. Perhaps there’s hope for my son’s behavior yet.”

My mother gave a smirk. I could have taken her reaction for pride if I didn’t know full well she was thinking of just how much I’d rebelled against my upbringing as a child. No doubt there were those here who remembered my earlier escapades. But as usual in high society, no one spoke about it openly, especially not since I was Trish Coldwell’s son and had obviously repented.

“Well now, I suppose Jessiah came around of his own accord,” she chimed. “I’m sorry, Walter, I can’t help you.”

Our host was waved over by another guest, and he excused himself with a few warm words.

I took two glasses from a server and gave one to my mother.

“How do you remember all those details?” she asked in a low voice, her eyes narrowing. “I couldn’t care less what his son is up to, or whether his dog is in good form. He could tell me the name of his wayward spawn every time we meet, and I still wouldn’t remember it five minutes later.”

Yes, and that’s precisely why everyone here thinks you’re a flesh-eating robot. I didn’t like all the posturing either, but these days I saw it as a job—sucking up to people whose superficiality, hypocrisy, and obsession with other people’s appearances was nothing short of disgusting. Wealth wasn’t the problem—being rich didn’t make you a bad person. But the compulsive need to pigeonhole everyone, force them into their carefully measured little box of strictly defined characteristics—that did. That was what had killed Adam. People like the Westons put so much pressure on their children with unrealistic expectations that they felt the need to let off steam with partying, drugs, and alcohol. And my brother had been so in love with Valerie that he’d done everything she’d done.