Chapter 11
CHAPTER
ELEVEN
JULIE
We pull up to Dean's mansion right on time. Asher parks the car but doesn't immediately get out. His hands stay on the steering wheel, his knuckles white.
"You okay?" I ask.
"Not even a little." He releases the wheel and opens his door. "Let's get this over with."
The front door opens before we reach it. Dean stands in the doorway wearing a navy suit without the jacket, his shirt sleeves rolled to his elbows. He looks relaxed. Pleased with himself.
"Asher. Julie." He steps aside to let us in. "Come in, come in. My wife and her daughter are in the dining room."
We follow Dean through the foyer, past the formal sitting room, past a flex space, past a less formal sitting room, and into the formal dining room where the long thirty seat table has been set for five.
White linens. Crystal stemware. Candles are already lit even though it's still light outside. It seems preposterous that we’re having a family dinner in a room so large.
But with Dean, I’ve come to learn that that’s the point. The show.
Two strangers stand near the far end of the table.
The first is tall, blonde, probably in her early forties.
She's wearing a cream silk blouse and tailored black pants. Her hair is pulled back, her makeup subtle but perfect. She's beautiful in that polished, expensive way that makes you think of country clubs and charity galas. The ring on her finger makes mine look like a chip in comparison. Gaudy doesn’t begin to cover what I’m seeing.
The second person is younger. Seventeen, I remind myself.
But she looks older in her fitted black dress with a skirt that's just this side of too short, and heeled sandals.
She has the same blonde hair as her mother, the same delicate bone structure.
She's holding a wine glass, though I can tell it's filled with water.
"Caroline, Devon," Dean says. "This is my son Asher and his wife Julie."
Caroline steps forward first. Her handshake is firm, her smile practiced. "It's lovely to meet you both. Dean has told me so much about you."
"It's nice to meet you too," I say, though I'm not sure it's true yet.
Devon hangs back, her fingers wrapped around the stem of her glass. She looks nervous. When Asher doesn't move to greet her, I step forward.
"Hi, Devon. I'm Julie."
"Hi." She glances at Asher, then back at me. "It's nice to meet you."
"You too." I smile at her, trying to put her at ease.
Asher finally speaks. "Devon." He nods at her, polite but distant. Then he turns to Caroline. "Welcome to the family."
The words sound hollow because they are.
Dean gestures to the table. "Please, sit. Dinner should be ready in just a few minutes."
He takes the head of the table. Caroline sits to his right. Asher and I sit across from them, which leaves Devon at the far end, between her mother and me. She sits down carefully, smoothing her dress under her legs.
A woman in a black uniform appears with a bottle of red wine. She pours for the adults, refills Devon's water glass, then disappears back into the kitchen.
"Let’s make it official," Dean says, lifting his glass. "To family."
We all lift our glasses. The crystal makes a soft chiming sound when Dean taps his against Caroline's. Asher drinks without making eye contact with anyone.
"How was your anniversary?" Caroline asks. Her voice is pleasant, conversational. "Dean mentioned you celebrated last weekend."
"It was wonderful," I say, because Asher doesn't answer. "We went to Carmel. Just the two of us. Such a beautiful town. We had the best time."
"How lovely." Caroline takes a sip of her wine. "Dean and I honeymooned in Positano. It was divine."
Dean reaches over and puts his hand on hers. The gesture is possessive, almost performative. "It was perfect," he says, looking at her like she's the only person in the room. "Absolutely perfect."
I glance at Asher. His jaw is tight. The woman in the uniform returns with a rolling serving tray filled with silver dome covered plates.
She sets a plate in front of each of us, removing the domes as she does.
Filet mignon, roasted vegetables, some kind of potato dish with herbs.
It looks expensive and professionally prepared.
I don’t think Dean has ever cooked a meal in this house and clearly Caroline isn’t going to either.
"This looks amazing," I say, picking up my fork.
"We have a new chef," Dean says. He's still looking at Caroline. "Caroline found her. She has excellent taste."
Caroline smiles. "I'm glad you approve."
I cut into my steak. It's perfectly cooked, tender and pink in the middle. Across from me, Asher eats mechanically, his eyes on his plate.
"Devon starts at Lakeside Prep on Monday," Caroline says. She's addressing the table in general, not her daughter specifically. "It's a wonderful school. Very competitive."
"That's exciting," I say, turning to Devon. "Are you nervous?"
Devon looks up from her plate and shrugs. "Only that I don't know anyone here yet."
"You'll make friends," I say. "New schools are always hard at first, but you'll find your people."
Dean makes a sound that might be a laugh. "Let's hope so. Devon has had some trouble in that department."
The table goes quiet. Devon's face flushes. When no one says anything, I squeeze Asher’s knee beneath the table.
"Father," Asher says, his voice low.
"What? It's true." Dean cuts into his steak. "Caroline has had a lot of stress stemming from the issues Devon has had at her last two schools. They all seem to end up not liking her. Meanwhile the adult men like her a little too much."
He looks at Devon, his expression flat. "I'm hoping Lakeside will be a fresh start. Perhaps you'll behave yourself this time."
My stomach turns. Devon stares down at her plate, her hands in her lap. Caroline says nothing, just takes another sip of wine. "I'm sure Devon will do great," I say, trying to fill the silence. "School is hard for everyone."
Dean sets down his knife and fork. He looks at me with an expression that's almost pleasant.
"For some more than others. Your father abandoned you, Julie, and both you and your sister turned out perfectly fine.
I gave Asher a week to mourn and after that made sure he knew his temper tantrums and crying weren't acceptable. Living in grief is such a waste."
He picks up his wine glass. "Devon will learn to move forward too. She can't blame everything on her father's suicide."
Inside, I'm screaming. The cruelty of that statement cut with razor like precision.
Caroline nods, her face smooth. "He's right. It's in the past and moving on is important."
Dean turns back to me and Asher, as if Devon isn't even sitting there. "She came home from school when she was twelve and found him hanging in the garage."
He says it like he just told us she found a grease stain in the driveway.
I'm mortified and disgusted that he's so callous.
My attention goes to Caroline, because surely as a mother she knows what Dean just did was borderline emotional abuse.
Instead of being angry at him, she nods and then shudders dramatically.
"It ruined the resale value of the house. I thought I'd never unload it. The buyer wound up paying six figures below what they should have. Needless to say, I was not happy with my dead husband."
The air leaves my lungs. I can't look at Devon. I can't look at anyone. Asher is still. His jaw is clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping. The rage is visible in every line of his body, but he doesn't speak. He just sits there, frozen, staring at his plate.
Dean reaches for Caroline's hand, his expression softening as he looks at her. "Darling, tell them about the wedding. They'll appreciate it."
Caroline sets down her fork. "It was very simple. Just the two of us. A witness and the officiant. I wore a beautiful St. Laurent dress and Dean looked so handsome in his suit.”
"My wife was gorgeous," Dean says again. He's gazing at her with something close to adoration. "There's a photo that's attached to the press release going out Monday morning that's just perfect. She looked amazing. Marrying as we did was perfect. No fuss. No spectacle. Just us and the moment."
I feel the words land like a punch. Just us and the moment. The intimate wedding Asher and I wanted. The one Dean refused to let us have. I look at my husband. His jaw is clenched so tight I can see the muscle jumping. He's staring at his plate, his fork frozen in his hand.
"That sounds beautiful," I manage to say.
"It was." Dean reaches for Caroline's hand again. "I finally understand what you were trying to tell me, Julie. About wanting something small. Something meaningful. I didn't get it then, but I do now. I owe you an apology for not understanding.”
The hypocrisy is staggering. I want to throw my wine glass at him. Instead, I smile. "The past is in the past. I'm glad you had the day you wanted."
"Yes. I hope you're not too disappointed that we didn't invite you, son. But you should know that we chose not to have Devon there, either. Marriage is for the husband and wife, not anyone else."
Asher makes a non-committal sound and shrugs.
I make something that passes for a hmm. And as for Devon, she just shifts in her seat.
I feel fucking horrible for her. Her own mother got married and didn't invite her. There’s so much wrong here it’s nearly impossible to choose one thing to focus on.
All I know for certain is that the conversation needs to move on because the level of discomfort is horrific.
"Devon, what are you most excited about at the new school?" I ask, trying to steer the conversation somewhere safer.
She looks up, surprised to be addressed. "Um. I don't know. Maybe the pottery class? The counselor mentioned that they have a really good ceramics studio."
"That's great. Do you like working with clay?"