Page 39 of Love and Lies

I quickly brushed my hair and redid my makeup in the bathroom. Then I changed out of my clothes and into the dress before finally taking a critical pass at myself in the mirror. Sure enough, the dress fit like a glove—but it didn’t suit me. And a part of me balked at having to wear it.

So I went to my closet, taking out another dress that, like the leather jacket, I’d brought over from England—it was black, also with lace sleeves, but it was a lot less girly than the one my mother had picked out for me. I’d bought it at Saks after I’d seen Kate Middleton wearing it to an event and absolutely had to have it. I didn’t get much opportunity to wear it in Cambridge, though. No one went to student parties in a dress like that.

I took it off the hanger, determined—but then hesitated. Sure, the rebellious side of me would have loved to wear it—but the price for this little act of defiance would be high. If there was one thing I had to try to avoid, it was giving my parents the idea I was anything like Valerie. And she would have done exactly what I was about to do.

I sighed silently, hung the black dress back in the closet, put on a pair of shoes, and made it downstairs just in time. I reached the bottom step just as the doorbell rang and the housekeeper opened the door. At the same moment, my parents and Lincoln arrived to greet Paige and her family in the foyer. I stuck out a hand, too, nodding politely.

“You look very pretty, darling,” my mother said with a smile on her face as we went through to the living room. “Pastels just suit you so well.”

“Yes,” I replied, though I was thinking the opposite. “Thank you for picking it up for me. You were right; I’ve really neglected my wardrobe. I’ll go shopping next week.”

“I’ll come with you, if you like. We haven’t done that in forever.”

I smiled at her. “That would be lovely.” Part of me was actually pleased she wanted to spend some time with me. I’d often missed that over the last few years. But I knew what my closet would end up looking like as a result. Because my mother had no real interest in the person I was now—only the one she wanted me to be.

I was quiet through most of the appetizers, haunted by my visit to Jessiah’s apartment. I could still taste the pasta in my mouth, hear his words in my ear, see his face before me. I’d gotten some insight today into who Adam’s brother really was—and had actually found myself starting to like him. But now he thought I’d tricked him. And it hurt. More than I expected.

“What’s happening with the Winchester plot, Tobias? I heard there were difficulties.” We’d barely sat down to dinner, Mary’s venison in front of us, and Paige’s father Clive was already talking shop. It was fitting, since the wedding was going to cement professional ties between our two families. The Irvines were in the construction business, mostly known for renovating old buildings, and my parents and Clive had worked together on various projects for years.

“Nothing we can’t fix,” my father replied with a smile. “There’s a competitor interested in the site, and the owner is having a hard time deciding whose concept they prefer. But we have public policy on our side, so contracts should be finalized soon—in our favor.”

“Unless Trish Coldwell convinces the mayor to step in on her behalf,” Clive added. “She’s got him eating out of her hand as it is.”

My father frowned irritably. “If that woman thinks she can build another one of her tasteless monstrosities on that plot, she’ll find out what it’s like to go head-to-head with me.”

I looked up in surprise. I’d never heard my dad talk like that before, his tone so bleak and full of spite. Maybe it was because I’d been away for so long.

The more time I spent around my family, the more certain I was that Sunday brunch hadn’t happened in a long time—and likely never would again. My parents and brother were acting so businesslike around one another that it felt ridiculous to imagine them in pajamas at the breakfast table.

“She has no business in this town—I think we can all agree on that,” Paige’s mother Eleanor said with a nod. “But since the death of her eldest, she no longer has a successor, and CW might well be history soon. And then something good will have come of the whole tragedy after all.”

I held my breath.

“Mother,” Paige hissed, shocked. But nobody except the two of us seemed bothered that Eleanor had spoken so freely—almost positively—about Adam’s death—and, indirectly, Valerie’s. My mom stared down at her plate and carried on eating, while my father took a sip of wine, and Lincoln dabbed his mouth with a napkin. Why was no one saying anything? We were Westons, damn it! Nobody insulted us—especially not in our own home.

I took a deep breath. “I’m sure Valerie would be pleased to know her death might have contributed to Trish Coldwell’s downfall,” I said sarcastically. “But I think you may be jumping the gun a little—she does still have two other sons, after all.”

Eleanor raised a plucked eyebrow before deciding to ignore my first remark. “Yes, but neither of them is capable of following in her footsteps. Elijah isn’t right in the head; he doesn’t even go to school on a regular basis. And don’t get me started on Jessiah.”

I couldn’t stop myself. “Why not?”

My brother seemed to have found his voice again. “He’s not interested in the family business, or in mixing with our circles. Jessiah avoids New York society like the proverbial plague. He’s never made a secret of that.”

“But he still goes to official functions with his mom,” I said, realizing from my family’s reaction that I should have engaged my brain before opening my mouth. “At least, that’s what I’ve heard,” I added quickly, taking a sip of water.

“That’s true.” My father fixed me with a stare, as if wondering how I knew. As far as he was aware, I hadn’t been to any events since coming back.

“Well, Trish obviously has him under control now, unlike before.” Eleanor put down her glass. “It still makes my hair stand on end, thinking about what he used to get up to.”

“Like what?” I asked, putting a forkful of beans into my mouth. I knew it was a dangerous question, but I was banking on the assumption that nobody here would suspect me of being in contact with Adam’s brother.

“Well, it’s hardly a subject for the dinner table.” There was a gentle warning in my mother’s voice. “At any rate, we can’t be sure that Jessiah won’t take over the business in the future.”

“He hasn’t even been to college.” Eleanor wrinkled her nose. “The boy is twenty-three years old and has absolutely nothing to show for himself. If he were my son, I’d be ashamed of him.”

“That’s not exactly true,” said Lincoln. I looked at my brother in surprise. Was he… defending Jessiah? “He owns several restaurants in the city. And he funds various start-ups—restaurants, cafés, and clubs, mostly.”

I would have been surprised at that if I hadn’t gotten to know Jessiah better today. I’d shown him nothing but contempt up until then, but he’d still invited me to eat with him—it checked out. Guilt clawed at my insides, along with something else I would prefer to ignore. Why hadn’t I just taken the notebook and gone back into the kitchen? He’d have been none the wiser.