Chapter 18 Helena #2
“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.
And what then? Your parents would send you to the moon before they’d let you see him again.
Eleanor shook her head. “He inherited those restaurants from his father. And those other projects… that’s not respectable work. More like a hobby for someone who doesn’t know what he wants to do with his life.”
“I think it’s pretty respectable to help other people build something of their own,” I said, drawing my parents’ attention back to me again.
Careful, Helena, the voice in my head warned. You’re on really thin ice now.
My father had fixed me with that piercing stare again, but he let it drop sooner than I expected.
“I think we can be glad that our children chose more traditional routes for their futures,” he said diplomatically in the Irvines’ direction.
“Lincoln is doing a really great job at the firm, and Helena will carve out her own path too, I’m sure. ”
“You’re not going to join the business?” Clive asked, in such an affable tone you’d think he was speaking to a five-year-old. Perhaps he was worried his horrible wife would chime in again.
“I don’t have any firm plans yet. I actually wanted to start my own business with my sister.” I swallowed. “But sadly that’s not going to happen anymore.”
“Your own business? Very ambitious.” Clive nodded his approval. “And in what area? Real estate, surely—I can’t imagine anything else from a couple of Westons.”
“No, not real estate,” I said, struggling to keep my emotions in check. “We wanted to offer city tours.”
“City tours?” Paige’s eyes grew wide. “You wanted to schlep around New York showing a load of tourists with cameras and fanny packs the Empire State Building? Why on earth would you want to do that?” She pulled a face.
I’d have liked to give her a few choice words on the subject, but I kept myself under control and turned back to Clive.
“We created this new concept—‘Friends and the City.’ It was supposed to be like being shown around the city by one of your friends, instead of some grumpy tour guide who has to deal with a dozen different groups every day. It was going to be a whole three-hundred-and-sixty-degree experience, with sights, food, and nightlife, but also leisure, trips to secret corners of the city—and always with a guide in the same age range.”
My mother pursed her lips, and my father refilled his glass.
No one could do silent disapproval like those two.
They had always hated my and Valerie’s idea, and had tried to talk us out of it—unlike Adam, who had even promised to support us financially.
I bet they were glad nothing was going to come of it now.
“That sounds like a really great concept,” Clive said, and I was glad at least one person at the table saw it that way. “This city has a lot more to offer than Liberty Island and Times Square. It would be a shame if everyone missed it.”
“Yeah, that’s what Valerie and I always said.” I smiled.
“If you do decide to do it someday, let me know. I have several overseas business partners who would be enthusiastic customers.”
“I—” I began, but my mother interrupted me.
“I’m sure Helena doesn’t intend to follow in her sister’s footsteps in any way.
Right, darling?” The look she gave me was clearly an unspoken instruction not to say the wrong thing, for God’s sake.
And suddenly, I understood why they were going to so much trouble over this dinner.
They wanted to make it clear to the Irvines that Valerie had been a one-off, an exception, the black sheep in the perfect Weston herd.
That’s why I was wearing this dress—I was the display model, the good daughter; Valerie would never have worn something like this.
I felt rage bubbling up inside me, irrepressible rage that cut off my air supply and left my hands shaking.
I shouldn’t have been surprised they thought of Valerie that way—I’d always known my sister and her headstrong ways had been a pain in Mom and Dad’s ass.
But it was still incredibly hurtful to see firsthand how unprepared they were to stand by her.
They were distancing themselves from their own daughter as though she were a diseased branch that had to be cut off to save the rest of the tree. And just then I hated them for it.
Yet I couldn’t say anything, couldn’t express my fury. If I did, I’d be back in England first thing tomorrow, and my chance to try and clear Valerie’s name would be gone. So I fought to control myself—fought with all my strength—and won.
“No,” I said, smiling as sweetly as I could. “Of course not.”
Then I picked up my fork and proceeded to eat silently, my heart heavy with sorrow, because the only person I wanted to talk to about how wretched I felt was Valerie, and she was dead.