7. Alison
The dress is on my bed when I come out of the shower.
I stop in the bathroom doorway, towel wrapped around me, and stare at it.
It wasn’t there when I went in. The clothes I’d laid out for myself are gone, and in their place is a navy dress with tiny white dots, long sleeves, a fitted waist, and a wide white collar.
Black heels sit neatly on the floor beside the bed, and a matching navy headband rests on top of the dress.
I don’t need to ask who put them there. My father has opinions about what I’m wearing to lunch with my future husband, and apparently the outfit I’d chosen didn’t meet them.
I dress, leave my hair down beneath the headband, and take longer than I normally would with my makeup — not because I care what Victor thinks, but because Dad will notice if I don’t look like I made an effort.
By the time I walk downstairs, it’s a few minutes after ten. Dad is at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and his phone beside him. Mom is putting away the last of the breakfast dishes, and Tobias is sprawled across the living room rug with crayons and construction paper spread around him.
My heels announce me before I reach the kitchen. Dad looks up. I stop. His gaze moves over me slowly, taking in everything he chose before returning to my face. “Good.”
“Thank you, Father.”
“You found everything.”
“I did.”
“I didn’t think what you had laid out was appropriate for today.”
“I understand.”
He gestures toward the chair across from him. “Sit for a minute.”
My stomach tightens, but I pull out the chair and sit. Mom glances over from the counter before turning back to the cabinet. Dad takes a drink of coffee. “I’ve noticed you’ve been spending more time with Catherine O’Farrell.”
My fingers fold together in my lap. “Yes.”
“And Penelope MacHale.” His eyes remain on me. “Rebecca Carney.”
“Yes.”
He says their names differently than I do. Not Cat, Penny, and Becca. Their full names, like their families are attached even when he doesn’t say the rest out loud.
“There’s nothing wrong with having friends, Alison, but you need to be careful about who you associate yourself with.
Especially at Edgewood. All three of those girls have families who’ve attracted a considerable amount of attention this year.
That doesn’t necessarily make the girls themselves a problem, but it does mean you should be mindful of how closely you involve yourself. ”
“They’re just my friends.”
“I know what they are.” There’s enough edge in his voice that I lower my eyes.
“Sorry.”
“Graduation isn’t far away. Your circumstances will be very different afterward.
School friendships tend to feel more permanent than they actually are.
” Something inside my chest tightens. He says it like Cat, Penny, and Becca are another part of Edgewood I’ll naturally leave behind with my uniform.
“Victor has friends and associates with wives of their own. There will be women you’ll meet through him who are more appropriate to the life you’ll be living. ”
I stare at my hands. “I like the friends I have.”
His coffee stops halfway to his mouth. “I didn’t say you couldn’t like them.”
“I know.”
“Then what exactly are you arguing with?”
“Nothing.” I lower my eyes again. “I’m sorry, sir.”
He sets his cup down. “You’ve been doing more of that lately.”
My stomach tightens. “Doing what?”
“Having something to say.” I don’t answer.
Apparently that’s the right choice, because he doesn’t push.
“Be careful who you allow to influence you.” He leans back slightly, watching me for another moment before the subject changes.
“Now, about today.” There it is. “Victor rearranged his schedule because he wanted to have lunch with you. I expect you to appreciate that.”
“Of course.”
“You’ll be pleasant. You’ll listen when he speaks. If he asks your opinion, you may give it respectfully, but you will not argue with him simply because you don’t like what he says.”
“I won’t.”
“And when he shows you affection, you won’t behave as though he’s doing something inappropriate.” My eyes drop to my lap. “Alison.”
“I heard you.” His expression hardens. The words were out before I considered how they sounded. “I’m sorry. Yes, sir.”
“Victor is going to be your husband.”
“I know.”
“You’ve had years to accept that.”
“Yes, Father.”
“He has been patient because of your age and because I wanted you to finish school without unnecessary distractions. You should appreciate the consideration he’s shown you.”
“I do.”
“Then behave like it. He shouldn’t have to wonder whether his future wife is happy to see him. You won’t pull away when he touches you. You won’t make him feel as though his affection is unwanted, and you certainly won’t embarrass him by doing either in public.”
“No, sir.”
“You’re eighteen now. Graduation is approaching. This arrangement isn’t something years away that you can continue pretending doesn’t exist.”
“I understand.”
“Today, I expect you to behave like his future wife.”
I swallow. “Yes, Father.”
His expression finally relaxes. “Good.” He picks up his phone, and I’m dismissed as easily as that.
I stand. Mom is still at the counter. Our eyes meet briefly. She heard every word. Of course she did. Neither of us says anything.
The doorbell rings at ten fifty-eight. Dad checks his watch as he crosses the foyer. Two minutes early. Of course Victor Tremblay is early.
I’m reaching for my purse when Mom steps beside me. Dad has his back to us while he unlocks the door, and her hand closes around mine. Something small and hard presses into my palm. I look down. A portable charger.
My eyes snap to hers. “Mom?”
“Put it in your purse.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. "If plans change, I want you to be able to call me.” Something about her expression makes my chest tighten.
“What plans?”
“I don’t know.” The lock turns. Mom glances toward Dad. “Just keep your phone charged.”
“Okay.” Her fingers squeeze mine once. Then the door opens, and she lets go.
Victor steps inside. His attention finds me immediately. “There she is.”
I remember everything Dad said less than an hour ago. Pleasant. Attentive. Happy to see him. I smile. “Hello, Victor.”
He crosses the foyer and takes my hand. “You look beautiful.”
“Thank you.” His gaze moves slowly over the dress before returning to my face..
Victor’s hand moves around my waist and draws me closer. I go without resisting. His mouth touches my cheek first, then the corner of my mouth before he kisses me properly. Brief. Chaste. Entirely acceptable with my parents standing only a few feet away. I make myself return it.
When he pulls back, his thumb brushes my cheek. “I’ve been looking forward to today.”
Dad picks up his coat. “We should go. The reservation is at noon.”
There was never a question of my father coming.
A man like Victor Tremblay doesn’t take another man’s unmarried daughter forty-five minutes into Boston without her father accompanying them.
That would be improper. Unbecoming. Never mind that Victor decided he wanted to marry me when I was thirteen.
Apparently there are rules for these things.
Victor places his hand against my lower back and guides me outside. The town car is waiting in the drive. Dad gets in first. Victor holds out his hand to me, and I take it. Because that’s what a proper future wife does.
The drive into Boston takes around forty-five minutes, and Victor spends most of it with some part of him touching me.
My hand stays in his while his thumb moves over my knuckles.
His arm stretches behind me when he shifts closer.
Eventually his palm settles on my knee. Nothing inappropriate.
Nothing anyone could point to and object to. That’s almost worse.
“How is school?” he asks.
I give him a small smile. “I’m ready to graduate.”
“So am I.” His hand tightens around mine. Dad looks over from the opposite seat. Victor smiles. “You can’t blame me, Roman. Five years is a long time.”
“You agreed to wait.”
“I did.”
“And she needed to finish school.”
“I’ve never disagreed with you about that.” Victor turns toward me. “I’ve been very patient.”
There it is again. Patient. As though my childhood was an inconvenience the two of them graciously allowed me to complete.
He lifts my hand and kisses my knuckles. “Only a few more months.” His thumb passes over the spot he just kissed. “Then we can finally start our life.”
Our life. The one he and my father designed before I was old enough to understand what they were doing.
I look out the window as Boston comes into view.
The restaurant occupies the upper floor of a luxury hotel downtown, and everything about it is quietly, obscenely expensive.
Dark polished wood. Cream linen. Fresh flowers.
Enormous windows overlooking the city. Tables spaced far enough apart that conversations disappear into the low murmur of the room.
The hostess greets Victor by name. “Mr. Tremblay. Welcome back.”
“Good afternoon.”
Victor guides me after her. When we reach the table, he pulls out my chair before taking the one beside me. Dad sits across from us. Water is poured. Menus appear.
We order after a few minutes, and once the waiter leaves, Victor turns his chair slightly toward mine. “I’ve been thinking about what happens after graduation.”
My stomach tightens. “I assumed you had.”
His mouth tips upward. “I expect the transition to be relatively easy for you. I have staff, so I’m certainly not marrying you because I need someone to scrub floors or cook my dinner.”
“That’s reassuring.” His eyebrows lift. I immediately wonder if that was too much.
Then he smiles. “You were worried?”
“I wouldn’t say worried.”
“What would you say?”
“I’ve never been especially good at cooking.” Victor laughs. Across the table, Dad’s expression doesn’t change. I reach for my water. “I can learn.”
“You won’t need to. You’ll have other responsibilities.”
“What kind?”