Chapter Ten #2
Lunch was served on the beach that afternoon.
At noon, the six of them—Saoirse, Ana, Tabby, Salvador, Ransom, and William Bass—set off on horseback from the stables down to the private beach off the highway.
There, the servants had erected a tent, and underneath, there was a table dressed with white linen and china and more food than could be eaten by all six guests if they were to feast on it for a week.
There were skillets of clams cooked in garlic and butter, oysters on ice, and mussels in tomato broth, with crab cakes and lobster.
For sides, there was grilled zucchini and mushrooms, mashed cauliflower, buttered asparagus, a leafy green salad, and sourdough rolls.
Between the food sat carafes of ice water and bottles of wine.
Saoirse sat on one side of the table, between Florence Talbot and Ransom, and on the other side, Bass sat on the end, next to Salvador and Ana.
Salvador pulled out Ana’s chair for her, and Saoirse watched him whisper something in her ear.
Ana laughed, and Saoirse immediately felt a twinge of irritation.
This Ana was proving more challenging to get rid of than she had thought.
She shook her head to clear it. That was a problem for another day.
The waiter poured them each a glass of wine, and Bass stood to make a toast.
“On this day, two hundred and six years ago, our proud nation was born,” Bass said.
“Let us not forget that it was a group of farmers, mostly, who wrested their freedom from what was, at the time, the most powerful empire in the world. And that is an important lesson for all of us: that no matter who you are, where you come from, who stands above you in the food chain, you can make of your life what you want; you can rewrite the hierarchy, if only you have the grit and the will to do so.”
Saoirse bit her lip to keep from laughing. It was equally irritating and endearing that Bass would find a way to make any speech, any occasion, in some way, about himself.
“To friends, new and old,” Bass said, and they all clinked their glasses.
Saoirse picked up a shell and extracted the meat with a tiny fork, dipped it in the broth, and then discarded the shell into a separate bowl.
“Saoirse, my dear, I’m surprised to see you partaking in your lunch with such vigor,” Bass said. “I would have thought you’d be outraged. Or are you taking a vacation from your diet?”
She set down her fork, a tinge of annoyance racing up her spine. “I don’t think you can take a vacation from a deeply held belief, Uncle, or you must not hold it very deeply,” Saoirse said. “You can betray your values in a moment of weakness, but you cannot part yourself from them completely.”
“You have a philosopher’s soul, my dear,” Bass said.
“My sister is a victim of PETA,” Ransom explained to Ana and Salvador, who looked confused.
Saoirse bristled. “Not a victim, an advocate,” she corrected.
She turned toward Ana and Salvador. “I don’t eat anything that can feel pain or experience fear.
Shelled mollusks don’t have brains or central nervous systems, so they don’t experience either.
” Saoirse turned back toward her brother.
“And honestly,” she went on, “after you read PETA’s investigation into the suffering of those poor monkeys at those research facilities in Maryland—and see the pictures, my God,” Saoirse said.
“I don’t know how anyone wouldn’t support their cause.
Even you, Ransom. And how you continue to eat meat after I’ve shown you the pictures of what happens in those factories to those poor pigs, I’ll never understand. ”
“Campaigning for the ethical treatment of animals and not eating meat are two entirely different matters,” Ransom said.
“I hardly see how,” Saoirse said. “How is raising a sentient, feeling being for the purpose of slaughter ethical? You’ve been conditioned by society into a very barbaric practice.”
“Come now, Saoirse, you’d really go so far as to say eating a steak or enjoying a hamburger is barbaric?” Bass asked. “Isn’t that a bit dramatic?”
Saoirse fumed. She knew she was losing her temper, but she couldn’t do anything to stop it.
“If we came down to this beach and there was a dog stewed in that pan instead of crab, we’d all be revolted,” she said.
“No one would think it dramatic for a display of outrage then. And yet how is a dog any different from the pork that you eat regularly? Pigs are more intelligent than dogs. More intelligent than three-year-old humans, even. They feel joy and fear and loneliness. And yet you raise them in factories, where they never know what it is to do anything natural to them—they never run across a pasture or feel the fresh wind in their face. They’re taken from their mothers when they’re only a few weeks old, crowded into a dirty pen, and fed a steady diet of drugs to make them grow fatter, until they’re crippled under their own weight and then inhumanely exterminated.
So, yes, I do think barbaric is the right word, and no, I do not think I’m being dramatic. ”
She was out of breath when she finished. It was maddening to her, the way her brother and Bass went after her deeply held beliefs, as if she belonged to a brainwashed cult.
“Need I remind you that grilled pork chops with balsamic caramelized pears used to be your favorite meal?” Bass said. “You’d have the cook make it for your birthday.”
Saoirse felt the heat rush into her cheeks. “Yes, well, I’m not pretending to be above reproach,” she said. “But when our understanding changes, so, too, should our actions.”
“Apt words,” Salvador said brightly, clearly trying to steer the conversation into safer waters.
“We should all strive to expand the boundaries of our own understanding. I find reading extremely helpful in this regard. Speaking of which, has anyone read The Heart of a Woman? I’ve been meaning to pick up a copy.
I thought I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings was illuminating. Transcendent.”
“I admire your fortitude, however misguided it may be,” Bass said to Saoirse, ignoring Salvador’s attempt to lead the conversation elsewhere.
“I shall just bite my tongue and wait for this fad to pass, as they always do. I never understand them. Have you heard of these cleanses the young people are doing now? Or these diet pills?”
“Don’t provoke her, Uncle,” Ransom said under his breath, “or we’ll never be able to get through this meal in peace.”
“I assure you, this is not some ‘fad,’ as you put it,” Saoirse said, sitting up straighter and raising her voice.
This was the time. Here was her chance. It had arrived quicker than she had planned for or hoped.
“And I fully intend to put my money where my mouth is,” she went on, “once I’m legally able to do so. ”
“Don’t tell me you’re actually going to give money to that PETA organization?
” Bass said with a laugh. “Those liberal radicals are a foolish investment, Saoirse. They’re poorly run, and mark my words, they’ll be defunct in the next year unless they can pull the wool over the eyes of enough bleeding-heart donors like yourself.
I hope you won’t put too much into them. ”
Saoirse took a deep breath. “No, Uncle,” Saoirse said, her voice calm. “What I meant was, I plan to divest my holdings in Bass Corp.”
Bass had been in the middle of taking a drink from his wineglass when Saoirse said this, and he stopped cold. He coughed, a deep, guttural cough that sounded as if he might be choking.
Ransom leaned forward, his face strained and looking very, very serious. “Saoirse, what are you talking about?” Ransom asked.
Saoirse swallowed. She couldn’t lose her grit now.
“I’m getting out of Bass Corp. when I turn eighteen,” Saoirse said, trying to keep her voice level.
“I cannot hold a majority share—or any share, for that matter—in a company that subjects animals to the cruelty of factory farms and slaughter. No matter how lucrative it may be.”
Saoirse looked over at Bass, who was still stuck in the middle of his coughing fit. His face was beet red, there was sweat pooling at his temples, and his hair—had it always been this gray? He looked old and tired, and there was an anger in his eyes that she had never seen directed at her before.
In her mind, this scene had played out differently.
She had imagined looking Bass in the eye and saying coldly, without an ounce of feeling, I understand that this is hard.
And I hate to see you so upset. Just trust me that this is for the best. She’d imagined how satisfying it would feel, how pleasing that moment of revenge would be, when she could take something away from him while reciting back the same words he had said to her when she had come to him in her most desperate hour of need.
But as she looked across the table at him now, the reality felt very different from how she had imagined it.
“At first, I thought you were just naive and foolish,” Bass said, finally regaining his voice. “But now I see your delusions have driven you to self-destruction. Surely you’re astute enough to separate business from this . . . this . . . ridiculous cause you’ve taken up?”
“I assure you, I cannot,” Saoirse said, her voice quiet.
It felt like her throat was closing up. She couldn’t breathe.
What had she done? She could see it plainly in his eyes—he hated her.
Hated her. And she realized in that moment, too late, that she didn’t hate him, not really.
She was angry, but she didn’t want to lose him completely, and she couldn’t stomach his ire.
Bass turned to Ransom. “Aren’t you going to reason with her?” Bass asked.
“This is really not the time or place to discuss business,” Ransom said. “Can’t we all just enjoy the—”
“Man was made to eat meat!” Bass said, slamming his fist down hard onto the table. Saoirse yelped, as if he had struck her.