23. Kristoff Is Told Family Secrets
23
Kristoff Is Told Family Secrets
I don’t trust myself to drive so I hire a driver. By the time I make it down the elevator and onto the street, a sleek, black Lincoln is waiting for me. I slide into the backseat then endure the drive to see Nonna.
I’m not happy about her choice of venue but that’s where I tell the driver to take me. The place I longed for when I was still young and then later where I promised myself I’d never return. I wouldn’t break that vow for Peter, and I don’t want to break it now, but that feeling is a tiny match next to the forest fire of deception that’s tearing through me.
I thought my grandparents were the only ones I could trust, and they even betrayed me. That my father lied to me my entire life isn’t surprising at all. But my grandparents? I wasn’t prepared for that, and I still don’t know how to process it.
Eventually the car pulls up to a large red brick house surrounded by mature trees that have mostly lost their leaves. It looks less imposing in sunlight. A sense of unreality permeates me. This should’ve been my home but instead I’m a stranger ringing the doorbell.
The door is opened by a thin woman who has to be Peter’s mother. They have the same hair and freckles, but her eyes are a shade of blue so faded it might as well be no color at all. There’s a white streak in her short hair that she hasn’t bothered trying to disguise.
The woman holds her hand out and it’s so frail I’m worried I’ll crush it. “I’m Eileen,” she says. “I’m sure you don’t remember me, but we met when you were very young, before…” she visibly falters then composes herself. “Back when I worked for your father. I was his secretary.”
I think I knew that. My stepmother isn’t someone I’ve ever thought too much about. She was just an imposter taking my mother’s place, not a real person. I don’t remember having met this woman, but I can’t say I’m surprised she used to work for my father.
I take her frail hand and hold it carefully. Did Peter tell me she was ill? I can’t remember. It’s obvious, looking at her. A stiff wind might blow her away.
“Please come in. Your grandmother is in the kitchen, cooking enough food for an army. I’ve tried to tell her I don’t have much appetite, and the only other person living here at the moment hasn’t come home the last two nights.” Eileen gives me a speculative look but doesn’t press the issue. Instead, she smiles and adds, “I know Peter’s fine. He checks in with me every day.”
No, I think. He checks on you every day. It’s impossible for me to hate this woman. She’s not anything at all like the wicked stepmother I used to paint her as in my head. Despite looking sickly, the aura she projects is all wholesome goodness.
“You’ll never get Nonna to stop cooking so don’t bother. Peter can help you eat the leftovers. And my father, when he returns from Italy.”
Eileen gives me a wary smile and says nothing, silently leading me to the kitchen, even though I’d be able to smell my way there with my eyes closed.
Nonna has three pots going on the stove, bread dough rising in a bowl on the counter, and there’s a loaf currently baking in the oven. On the island she’s putting together an antipasto plate, although tray would be more accurate. There are various olives, roasted peppers, cubes of cheese, tiny balls of mozzarella, salami, prosciutto, artichoke hearts, and white bean salad. That alone would be enough to feed six people with plenty of leftovers for sandwiches later, but Nonna is Nonna so of course she’s putting a ricotta filling on flat circles of pasta dough then shaping them into mezzeluna.
Nonna looks up and gives me a stern look. “You’re another one that’s too thin.” She puts down a basket of grilled bread slices next to the antipasto then reaches into a cupboard and gives me a plate. “The forks are in the drawer by the sink. Sit down and eat.”
It's an order, not a request, but I completely skipped breakfast and I’m starving. Belatedly, I remember I forgot to feed the cats this morning. Not that they’ll die if they skip a meal. Falstaff could skip a week of meals and still be a fuzzy orange barrel on legs. Still, I know they’ll give me hell when I get home.
As if on cue, my phone vibrates with a message from Peter telling me that he’s meeting up with a friend of his for a drag queen brunch. Also, he fed the cats.
It's so beyond stupid, but that’s what makes me start to cry. Not hysterically or anything. There was just a big fat tear that rolled down my face then fell with a splat onto my phone screen.
“I’ll talk while you eat,” Nonna says.
She’s hoping that eating will keep me from talking back. Surreptitiously I swipe at my eyes then take a seat at the island. Eileen joins me, and Nonna hands her a plate, but all Eileen does is place her mug of tea on top of it.
“Before I start, I want you to know that we did what we thought was best, and the right thing to do for the family, but we didn’t do as good a job as we should have. We tried though, Topolino . That I swear to you on the family Bible.”
“I’ll try to remember that,” I promise. What gets me is the nickname. I was so small and quiet as a child that I was always Nonna’s little mouse. She hasn’t called me that since I went to college, and it brings a lump to my throat.
“Before she married your father, your mother dated your uncle.”
“Was he the one who went off to the family in Italy?”
Nonna shakes her head at me then goes back to her mezzeluna. “No, that’s your Tio Andrew. This was your Tio Julian.”
Hearing the name is like being doused in ice water. My uncle Julian died in a car accident. I actually remember that, but not as an event. More as a family anecdote. “He died in a car accident, didn’t he?”
My grandmother nods her head sadly. “He was taken far too young.”
“Like my mother was killed in a car accident, right? And I got hurt, too, though I can’t remember it.”
“The neurologist warned us you might have no memory of the event. With head trauma, that’s common.”
“You’d think I’d remember my mother’s funeral.”
“Caro, there was no funeral. Your father had her cremated then spread a story in which she left him, but not with his brother and their child.”
The way she worded that makes me pause. “Wait. ‘Their child.’ You don’t mean her and Father, do you?”
Nonna accidentally squishes the mezzeluna she was trying to seal with fluting. She goes to wash her hands and when she comes back, her calm expression has returned. “It’s complicated. Your mother met and dated Julian, but they broke up because she was ready to get married and settle down and he wasn’t. Baldwin started taking her out and then asked her to marry him.”
I can’t help but make a face. “He put the moves on his brother’s ex? That’s very… him.”
“Yes, well, your parents seemed happy at first, but your mother couldn’t get pregnant. They tried and tried. Nothing worked. Then one day she finally got a positive result on a pregnancy test. She was over the moon and so was your father. You were their little miracle. But then you were born, and your father insisted on a paternity test.”
“Why? I mean I look just like Grandfather, except for…” I shut my mouth before I swear in front of my Nonna. But internally I’m screaming, Fuck! over and over.
Nonna fills in the blank. “Your mother had light colored hair. Even lighter than your grandfather or Baldwin. But you had dark hair, just like me—and your Tio Julian.”
My entire body feels numb. This is all so crazy, but it makes sense, and worse than that, it explains way too much. “That’s why Father hates me. That’s why he sent me away. But why didn’t you come get me? Like, for all the time and not just when I wasn’t at one of those sh—” I catch myself just in time. “Stupid boarding schools.”
“Baldwin was your legal guardian. Your mother ran away with Julian and took you with her. Had she made it across state lines, it would’ve been a felony. We tried and tried to convince Baldwin that we would take over your guardianship, but he wouldn’t let you go.”
My stomach turns over. “You mean he wouldn’t let me escape.”
Nonna pauses, then nods. “Your grandfather made sure you never went without anything you needed at school. He set up a trust fund for you and until you were twenty-one, he was the only one who could touch the money. The money to pay for your boarding school came from your trust fund. Your grandfather and your—your Tio Baldwin fought over what school you were at. Baldwin chose ones that were substandard, and your grandfather would have you transferred somewhere better. They went back and forth several times until we found a school you didn’t seem to hate, and your grandfather said that if Baldwin moved you again he wouldn’t inherit a penny.”
“But he did move me again. Twice.”
“That’s why you and I got everything. It would have been split between me, you, and your Tio Andrew, but he told your grandfather years ago that he didn’t want to be an heir. He has the trust fund he’s had since he was little, but he doesn’t really need or use it. He makes more than enough working for the family in Italy.”
Eileen clears her throat. “What do you mean about Kristoff’s school tuition and fees? We paid for that. All of it.”
Nonna looks at her sadly. “No, you didn’t.”
“But all that money…” Eileen’s voice sounds ragged. “All the things we couldn’t afford because…”
Peter’s cheap clothing makes sense now. It also explained why he was still living at home, although that might be so he can keep an eye on his mother. I don’t know what’s wrong with her, but she needs to see a doctor. Or maybe a different doctor.
“He said we couldn’t afford my medication,” Eileen says, sounding utterly defeated.
I turn away from Nonna and look at Eileen. “The healthcare plan at Minola is one of the best in the industry. I’ve been there when we negotiated the yearly contract at least five times. Fa—Baldwin and all the executives at Minola automatically get the top tier plan. Everything is covered. Everything.”
“This one isn’t, and it costs thirty thousand dollars a month. We can’t afford that.”
My stomach sinks. “That doesn’t make any sense. Fa—Baldwin, as CEO, gets a yearly salary of two million dollars. Even if you had to pay for the medication all by yourself, that would still leave you with…” I do the math in my head. “About one hundred thousand dollars a month after taxes. That should be plenty of money. I mean, within reason.”
Eileen doesn’t reply, but her face has gone dead white.
“I’ll pay for it,” I volunteer. I have more money than I could ever spend, and that’s after I’ve funded several charitable endowments. It sounds crass, so I don’t say it out loud, but I could spend thirty thousand a day and it wouldn’t put a dent in my finances, thanks to my trust fund and the inheritance from Grandfather.
Her eyes open wide. “No, no. You can’t. That’s too much. I can’t accept it. It’s—”
“Yes, you can,” Nonna tells her. “Let this one take care of you. The only one he has to fuss over is me and all those demon cats he has. You can take your share and not leave all that burden on me.”
“And all three of my demon cats?” I ask sarcastically. Both Nonna and Eileen ignore me.
“But…” Eileen bites her lip. “Is this offer because of Peter, Kristoff?”
I shake my head. “He never mentioned you were sick.”
I wonder if Peter pursued me because of my money. Now that I have more information, his motivation has always been his sick mother and the medicine she obviously needs. If he acknowledged to himself that I wasn’t going to quit, it’s not a stretch to see him backing the horse most likely to win the race.
Not that I’m any better. I deliberately set out to ensnare Peter so I could manipulate him against Baldwin. We both succeeded in seducing the other.
I never thought I would have Peter to keep. Is knowing that he’ll stay with me longer for the benefit of his mother any different? Yes, he’ll leave me when he no longer needs my money, but that was already a foregone conclusion. It’s better if we have all our cards on the table. I prefer things spelled out. There is a part of me that became convinced that Peter liked me for my own sake. It hurts knowing that was a foolish idea, but it’s a pain I can live with because I’ve survived it before. My therapist tells me that there’s no such thing as life without pain. It’s how we process the ache of loss or disappointment that reveals our truest selves.
I’ve read so many romance novels, trying to understand both romance and love. The situation I find myself in is possibly one of literature’s most ubiquitous tropes. I know I’m supposed to feel betrayed, and I do, a little. I’m supposed to be furious that I’ve been used. I am angry, but with myself, not Peter. And I’m supposed to go off in a huff because it turns out our relationship had a not-so pristine origin. There should be at least two or three chapters of pining and sulking. Something fragile should be thrown with force against a wall. And then I’ll come around after some grand gesture convinces me that I am truly treasured and was all along. The end. Then an epilogue featuring babies.
I’m not sure why it’s almost always babies. I think getting a few cats is a much better idea. This is because I am not a romance heroine. I’m not even one of the heroes in a gay romance. I’m just me: practical, logical, and sensible. I’m not someone that gets chased after. And I’m also not one to cut off my nose to spite my face.
If Peter is with me because he wants to help his mother then I will help his mother. I will be as good to him as I’m capable. And I’ll love him, of course, because I’m afraid I already do. He might break my heart, but it won’t be today, and it probably won’t be tomorrow, either.
This isn’t ideal, but not much in life is.
That, and I think there’s more. I certainly hope there’s more. There was that look on Peter’s face yesterday at the Field Museum. If I had to put a word on that look, it would be smitten. There’s the way he treats my cats, including remembering to feed them when I forgot. It was making condom use my choice and not his. It’s him making secret fantasies I’ve held inside myself forever come true.
He hears me. He sees me. He can read me like a book. That will have to be enough.
“I don’t want you spending your money on me because you feel obligated to,” Eileen says.
“I never do anything because of obligation. Baldwin cured me of that young.”
Eileen smiles at me ruefully. “I’ve been a fool, haven’t I?”
Nonna snorts. It’s obvious what her opinion is.
“I think that it’s natural to be foolish when we love. It’s one of the reasons it’s so scary,” I say.
Eileen gives me a real smile. “Peter’s talked about you to me. At first it was how much he hated and resented you, then how annoyed he was that you took every single thing he threw at you. The he talked about how good you were at your job and that he hated how pretty you were.” She smiles at me. “For weeks now it’s been nothing but Kit this and Kit that. I think he has a crush on you.”
That’s fine. I know I have a crush on him. Even when I still thought he was one hundred percent Baldwin’s lackey. Which reminds me…
“Nonna, if you and grandfather knew Baldwin wasn’t my father then you could have challenged him in court for custody.”
“Your grandfather didn’t want our family secrets aired out for the entire world to see. Had Julian lived, it would’ve been different. He loved your mother and said he wanted to be with his family. He meant you, of course. Then the accident happened, and the DNA test came back inconclusive. Without a sample from Julian, it would’ve been difficult to prove that Julian, rather than Baldwin, was your father. Your grandfather kept saying he’d get Baldwin to give you up without involving a court, but it never worked out.”
I look at Nonna but don’t say anything.
She looks guilty as hell. “We should’ve done more. I should have done more. I knew Baldwin was every bit as stubborn as your grandfather. And then later, when you became an adult, we should have told you the truth about everything. Your grandfather was against it, saying it would serve no purpose and only cause you pain. And after he passed, well, it was something I’d stopped actively thinking about. I’m sorry, Caro . I can see that not telling you was another mistake. We never meant to hurt you and did anyway. I’m afraid I haven’t been a very good grandmother to you.”
I stand up and give her a hug. “You’ve been the best grandmother,” I tell her, meaning it. She and Grandfather made some choices that turned out to be wrong, but they loved me. I’m positive that if nothing else, they always loved me.
Nonna hugs me back and I let her hold me. “Are you going to hit me with a spoon if I end up dating my stepbrother? I know Baldwin will hate it, but I don’t need to care about his opinion. Even when I thought he was my dad I didn’t listen to him very much.”
“Do you love him?” Nonna asks, pulling back to look at me.
I give her an honest answer. “I don’t know.”
Eileen lets out a short burst of laughter and seems surprised by the sound.
Nonna nods her approval. “It’s a good start.”
“When is Baldwin coming back to Chicago, anyway?” I ask, pulling away from Nonna and sitting back down. “I don’t understand why he’s been away from Minola for long.”
“Your Tio Andrew is keeping him busy.” Nonna tries to look innocent and fails miserably.
“Doing what?”
Nonna smiles angelically. “This and that. It’s enough to keep him busy for a long time. It’s more than enough to last until your birthday. And if he doesn’t behave while he’s there, Andrew will get him back into line.”
“Get him back in line how?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Nonna insists.
“I’m not worried. I’m curious. Just what does Tio Andrew do? No one’s ever told me that, either.”
Eileen doesn’t say anything, but her eyes have gotten big, and she’s gone dead white.
Nonna bites her lip. “Andrew and I promised your grandfather we’d never tell you about that. But as eldest son, Andrew was the one to inherit it from my father. I certainly couldn’t have. That was another disappointment for Baldwin. He resented being second born and getting second prize.”
“In what universe is getting to control Minola Corp. considered second place?” I am at a complete loss. My brain has taken in so much and now it’s ground to a halt like one of those kids sleeping on the museum’s marble floor. I can’t come up with anything that makes sense.
“It’s… you can’t compare it to Minola Corp. They’re two vastly different things.”
“Just tell me, Nonna. How bad could it be?”
As it turns out, pretty fucking bad.