7. Alison #2
“The house will be yours to manage. You’ll know the staff and oversee entertaining. You’ll accompany me when appropriate. Dinners, fundraisers, political events, social events. Washington and New York fairly often. Occasionally overseas.”
“And when it isn’t appropriate?”
“You’ll stay home.” Simple. Decided.
I nod. “Okay.”
“I entertain frequently, and some of it will be important. I expect my wife to understand the people around me.”
“Understand them how?”
Victor seems pleased that I asked. “Their wives. Their families. What they like. What they don’t. Who shouldn’t be seated together. Who needs attention. Who needs to believe they’re getting attention.”
Dad gives a quiet laugh. “That last category is usually the largest.”
Victor smiles. “By far.”
I look between them. “So I’m part of the entertainment.”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“That sounds mildly terrifying.”
Victor laughs again. “I’m sure you’ll survive.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“You’ll do better than that.” His thumb strokes over my fingers.
“You’re intelligent. You’ll learn quickly.
” The compliment catches me off guard enough that I don’t answer immediately.
Victor continues. “I don’t want a wife who sits silently at the end of my table while everyone around her carries the evening.
I want someone who can hold a conversation with anyone I put beside her.
Someone who remembers that a man’s wife mentioned her daughter was applying to Yale three months ago and asks how the application went. ”
“People remember that?”
“People remember when you remember.” That one sticks. Victor reaches for his water. “They also remember a home where they enjoyed themselves. I want people to accept an invitation from us because they know they’ll have a good evening.”
“I hadn’t thought about it like that.”
“You haven’t needed to.” He smiles. Our appetizers arrive, and the conversation pauses while they’re set in front of us. When we’re alone again, Victor says, “Your father tells me you’re good with Tobias.”
The change in subject catches me off guard. “He’s my brother.”
“That wasn’t the question.”
“I don’t know if I’m good with him. I like him.”
Victor smiles. “There’s a difference?”
“I think so. You can be good at taking care of someone and still find them annoying.”
“Do you find Tobias annoying?”
“Sometimes. He’s six.” Victor laughs. “But mostly he’s funny.”
“What does a six-year-old do that’s funny?”
“Yesterday he taught me that frogs swallow with their eyeballs.”
Victor stops with his fork halfway to his mouth. “They what?”
“That’s what I said.”
“That’s disgusting.”
“Also what I said. Tobias told me I wasn’t appreciating nature correctly.”
Victor is still smiling when he reaches for my hand again. “Your father says he follows you everywhere.”
“Pretty much.”
“And you let him.”
“Usually. We’ve established that the bathroom is a solo activity.
” Victor laughs again. “Boundaries are apparently a developing concept,” I add.
“He asks approximately eight thousand questions every day, but half the time they’re things I’ve never thought about either.
Then I want to know the answer, so we end up looking it up together. ”
Victor watches me for a moment. “You’ll make a wonderful mother.”
The warmth drains out of me. Ryan’s baby suddenly feels enormous inside a body that hasn’t changed enough for either man at this table to notice. “You don’t know that.”
“I do.” His thumb moves over my fingers. “The way you talk about your brother tells me more than you realize. You’re patient with him. You listen to him. You enjoy teaching him things, even when apparently he’s the one teaching you.”
“Usually about frogs.”
Victor smiles. “You’re nurturing without being dull.”
I blink. “Dull?”
“I don’t mean that as harshly as it sounds.
” Victor glances across the table. “Your mother is a respectable woman. She keeps a proper home. She’s raised two children.
She’s simply quiet.” Dad doesn’t defend her.
Of course he doesn’t. “There’s nothing wrong with quiet,” Victor continues.
“It suits the life she has with your father. My life is different.”
I look at him. “How?”
“I need more from my wife socially.” He gestures lightly around the restaurant.
“I need someone who can sit beside anyone I invite into my home and make them comfortable. Someone who can make a guest laugh when dinner has become tedious, change the subject before an argument starts, or keep someone’s wife entertained while the men finish a conversation. ”
“So I need to be funny on command?”
Victor laughs. “Preferably not on command.”
“That’s good. I’m not sure I perform well under pressure.” Another laugh. I glance toward Dad automatically. His face is perfectly pleasant, but I see the slight tightening around his mouth. I straighten in my chair. “Sorry.”
Victor frowns. “For what?”
“I don’t know.”
That makes him laugh again. “Stop apologizing every time you say something I find amusing.”
Dad reaches for his water. “Some habits exist for a reason.”
Victor glances at him. “She’s teasing me, Roman.”
“I know.” His tone is pleasant. My stomach isn’t.
Victor turns back to me. “I like seeing some personality, Alison. A charming wife is an asset, especially when you entertain as much as I do.”
“Then I’ll try not to ruin it.”
His mouth curves. “See? That.”
“What?”
“You’re quick.” He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses my knuckles. “Between that and the way you are with Tobias, I’m becoming increasingly pleased with myself.” His thumb moves over my hand. “Our children will be lucky to have you.”
I force myself not to move my other hand toward my stomach. “Thank you.”
“I want them raised properly, obviously, but I don’t want a silent house. I want children who enjoy being home. I want guests who enjoy being there. There’s a skill in making people comfortable without making them feel managed.”
The appetizers disappear, and by the time our main courses arrive, Victor seems completely satisfied with the woman he thinks he’s getting.
Then, once the waiter leaves, he says, “We’ll marry in June.”
I look at him. “June?”
“After graduation. I don’t see any reason to wait longer than necessary.” Apparently neither does Dad, because he doesn’t so much as look up from his plate. “The last Saturday,” Victor continues. “That gives you a few weeks after school ends.”
“Okay.”
His thumb moves across my hand. “Your mother can begin helping you prepare.”
“Mom?”
“Of course.” He looks almost amused by my surprise. “I’m certainly not choosing flowers, Alison.”
Dad gives a quiet laugh. “Neither am I.”
Relief slips through before I can hide it. “Good.” Victor’s eyebrows lift. Shit. “I mean, I’d like that. Having Mom help me.”
“As you should.”
I hesitate. “Could I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“Would you consider hiring a wedding planner for us?”
Victor looks mildly surprised. “You want a planner?”
“I think it would be easier. Mom and I have never planned anything like the kind of wedding you’ll be expected to have, and I don’t want to make mistakes or bother you every time we don’t know what we’re supposed to choose.”
His expression changes immediately. I found the right words.
“The kind of wedding we’re expected to have,” he corrects.
“Right. Sorry. We.”
“And you wouldn’t be bothering me.”
“I know, but you’re busy. Flowers and dresses and invitations are women’s work. It seems silly to drag you into all of it when you could hire someone who already knows what you expect.”
Victor smiles. “What I expect?”
I choose my next words carefully. “It’s your money.”
His smile deepens. “Our money, eventually.”
“Eventually,” I agree. “But right now it’s yours, and you know the kind of people who’ll be there. I’d rather you choose someone you trust. Then Mom and I can work with them and you don’t have to worry that we’re doing something wrong.”
Dad looks pleased. Victor looks fucking delighted. “That’s a very sensible answer.”
“So you’ll think about it?”
“I don’t need to think about it.” He reaches for his water. “I’ll have someone send you a few names tomorrow.”
I blink. “Really?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you.”
“You can choose from the people I send you. Your mother can help.” There it is. Even when he gives me something, he builds the walls around it first. His planners. His money. His approved choices. And somehow I’m grateful for the slightly larger cage.
“I’d like that.”
“Good.” Victor brings my hand to his mouth.
Across the table, Dad looks at me. I feel it immediately and lower my eyes to my plate. Victor doesn’t notice. Or maybe he does and simply doesn’t care.
He looks across at Dad instead. “You undersold her.”
Dad’s mouth tips faintly. “Did I?”
“She’s intelligent, she’s charming, she knows how to carry a conversation, and she clearly has the right instincts with children.” My stomach turns at the last part.
Dad cuts into his food. “Alison knows what will be expected of her.”
“I’m beginning to see that.” Victor’s hand returns to my knee. “She’s going to do very well.”
The praise shouldn’t feel threatening, but it does. Maybe because Victor isn’t falling in love with me. He’s evaluating me. And apparently I’m passing.
The conversation moves away from me almost immediately. Victor looks across the table. “Did Hollis call you back?”
Dad nods. “Late last night.”
“And?”
“He wants out.”
Victor lets out a quiet laugh. “Hollis has wanted out every six months since I’ve known him. Then the quarterly distributions arrive and suddenly his conscience becomes manageable.”
“This is different.”
“Why?”
“He’s worried about the Ellison Foundation records.”
Victor stops cutting his food. “What about them?”
“He thinks Bellamy kept copies.”
“Bellamy keeps copies of everything. It’s the only reason anyone tolerates him.”
“Personal copies.”
That gets Victor’s full attention. “Where?”
“Hollis doesn’t know.”
“Then Hollis doesn’t know anything useful.”
“He knows Bellamy was asking about Palm Beach.”
Victor is quiet for a moment. “When?”
“Thursday.”