16. Frederick
16
FREDERICK
A s I finish at the office, my phone rings. Glancing down, I see that it’s my mom. I take a deep breath and answer.
“Hi, Mom.” It’s been a few days since we talked – we haven’t spoken since our heated discussion regarding Rochelle.
“Hello, Frederick. Come to dinner tonight.” It’s not a request.
“Straight to the point, I see. Are you going to yell at me for my choices again?”
Her voice softens. “Frederick, please. Just come to dinner.”
“Fine.” I hang the phone and pocket it, hoping this isn’t another trick to try to convince me not to be with Rochelle.
Unwilling to go into battle against my family alone this time, I text my friend Chase.
Do you want to come to dinner at my family’s tonight?
Do I have a choice?
I chuckle. Of course, you do. But you’ll still say yes, right?
Okay, fine. I’ll come and be your backup.
Stepping out of the building, I hail a taxi and get in, directing the driver to my place so I can change first.
I pull on a comfortable pair of gray slacks and a cashmere sweater in navy, adding my favorite Patek Phillipe on my wrist.
Once I’m finished, I head back out and take an Uber Black to my family’s place in Bronxville. The house is large, though it would be a stretch to call it a mansion. It sits on just over an acre of land, plenty of room for a young boy to play around while growing up.
As we pull into the circular drive, Chase pulls in behind me in his Bentley Bentayga.
“Hey, Freddie,” he calls. We walk in together and head straight for the wet bar, pouring ourselves a glass of whiskey each.
My mother greets us coolly as she walks down the stairs. She’s dressed immaculately in a pair of pale blue slacks and a cream blouse. Even her updo is perfectly smooth, not a hair out of place. She hugs me, holding me close for a lingering second.
“Good to have you here, Chase,” she says as she pulls away. “We weren’t expecting you, but it will be no trouble for Marta to add a place.”
Uncle Theron saunters in, holding his own glass of whiskey. “Frederick,” he says, lifting his glass in greeting.
“Good to see you again, Theron,” Chase says. My uncle nods to him and takes a sip from his glass.
Marta comes into the room and announces dinner is served. We head into the dining room together, taking our places around the long oak table. The piece is a family heirloom, passed down from my great-grandparents.
Once upon a time, Mom wanted to undertake a modernization of the house but Grandfather put his foot down, so the place has remained in its mildly antiquated glory.
“How was work?” Mom takes a sip of her wine and glances at me.
“It was good, thank you.”
“Judge Thompson was on the golf course this afternoon,” Uncle Theron says. “We chatted briefly. He’s quite funny.”
It feels as though they’re tiptoeing around our previous interactions.
“He is,” I say, spearing my fork into a piece of asparagus.
We chat for a few more minutes about the weather and traffic before Mom finally breaks the ice.
“Frederick, your uncle and I want to apologize. We were out of line. Your happiness is more important to us than the family image. I hope you can forgive us. We want you in our lives, stubborn as you are, than not at all.”
“Your mother is right,” Theron says. “We were both pressured to marry our respective spouses for various reasons at your age and that’s how it always was in our family. Even though your mother loved your father very much in time, it wasn’t without the urging of others. The elder generation held their position over the younger ones, and although we hated that, we continued that silly tradition.”
I’m taken aback. Are my uncle and mother apologizing to me? It seems as though my words got through to them after all.
“Can we start fresh? Maybe you can tell us more about this Rochelle of yours?”
I smile. “Certainly. She’s an accomplished pianist. She plays for Le Printemps, actually. She aspires to reach great heights with her music, and I want to help her get there.” That much is true.
“Ah.” Mom gives me a wide-eyed smile, as though she’s holding back her words. At least she’s trying.
“Well, I look forward to hearing her play for us,” Theron interjects. “How did you two meet?”
“At the park, actually. I watched her play and was absolutely mesmerized.” It’s funny how close to the truth our story really is. “Later, I was walking through the park and a mugger tried to jump on me. She saw me and helped clean me up and things just took off from there.”
“A regular Florence Nightingale,” Theron says, stroking his beard. “I can see how that would appeal to a take-charge man like you.”
Her caring nature definitely appeals to me. “She’s very protective over her younger neighbors, too, like they’re her own children. She watches them and takes care of them when their parents are occupied.”
“They don’t have a nanny for that?” Mother’s brow is furrowed as if the concept of no nanny is foreign to her.
“They live in a high-rise in Harlem. Not exactly Park Avenue,” I tell them. “Sometimes regular people do things like help their neighbors. I think it’s sweet.”
“Well, I’m glad she makes you happy.” Mom’s smile is strained, but she reaches out to squeeze my hand anyway. “Are you sure that this is the right person for you?”
“I love Rochelle,” I tell them, wondering if that’s even a lie at this point. “Where she lives and what she does is none of your business. She’s amazing, and if you can’t see that, I feel sorry for you.”
“Oh. I want to make sure that she’s everything you need in a partner,” Mother says. “Maybe we can meet her. Would you bring her to dinner here next weekend?”
“As long as you don’t snub her with your judgment,” I tell her.
“I promise we will hold our tongues and get to know her as a person,” Theron assures me. “Though I just realized that next weekend I have a business trip. How about next Wednesday evening instead?”
“It’s a date,” I say, taking a drink from my wine glass.
Chase speaks up to tell a story about his last trip to St. Barts, effectively smoothing over the lingering tension in the room. By the time dinner is over, we’re all in a much better mood.
“Frederick, can I see you in my study before you leave?” Theron asks as Marta clears our plates away and we get up to head into the lounge.
“Sure, I’ll be there shortly,” I tell him, stepping outside to get some fresh air. Chase joins me, leaning against the iron railing on the veranda.
“That was… certainly interesting,” Chase says, a grin across my cheeks.
“Thanks for coming. I think it helped. I doubt Mother or my uncle would have been so quick to apologize without your presence.”
“I’m here for you,” Chase says. “But I have a question. You sound like you actually care about Rochelle. Do you? I thought this whole thing was just a way to get them off your back.”
“It’s complicated,” I tell him, running a hand through my hair. “We went into this intending to keep things platonic, but it’s changed and now I’m starting to wonder. I mean, one night of sex doesn’t equal a lifetime of marriage, but I don’t think you can call it platonic either. Lately, I’ve been referring to her as my fiance even in my head.”
“Why not take the chance? You practically light up when you talk about her. You couldn’t stop bringing her up throughout dinner, even during my St. Barts story.”
“You’re right. I’m going to take things slow, but I think we’re on the same page with our feelings.” It’s more than that, though. Rochelle and I may have taken the fast route to marriage, but that doesn't mean that I don't linger in every moment with her. I can’t help but savor every second.
“Sounds good. You should take her to Hearth. It’s very romantic there.”
“Great idea. I’ll have my assistant make a reservation first thing. Thanks for talking with me. It’s given me real clarity about the situation.”
Chase always seems to know the right thing to say. Even in law school, he was my favorite study partner. The two of us were great at figuring out tough concepts when we put our heads together.
“You ought to go see your uncle now, Freddie.” Chase gestures towards the house. “I’m going to take off. I’ll see you next week for lunch?”
“Of course.”
Chase pats me on the back and leaves. I head inside to talk to my uncle. He’s in his study when I enter, sitting behind the large oak desk.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yes, thank you. Please sit down.” He gestures to the carved wood-and-leather chair. I sit down, crossing one leg over my knee.
“What’s this about?”
“I hope you understand that even though I accept Rochelle into our lives, I can’t let you keep the castle. I’m a man of my word, and it’s going to serve a far better purpose for the organization than it would in our family.”
I chuckle. “It’s fine, Uncle Theron. I mean, who needs a castle anyway? I wouldn’t want our family to look cruel by taking back a gift like that from a charitable organization.”
“I’m glad we’re on the same page then,” Theron says. He rises, shaking my hand, and I pull him in for a quick one-armed hug.
“I’ll see you next week,” I tell him. “Say goodbye to Mom for me. I’ve got to head back home though.”
I leave, hands in my pockets and a smile on my face.
Things are finally turning around in this family, but will they both keep their word to be nice when they finally meet Rochelle?