Chapter 10
Mom was just as she was last week in the store, except she was wearing a cocktail dress and enough bling to blind a person.
She was on a settee. My stepfather was seated in one of the chairs diagonal from her.
He was grayer than the last time, yet he sat ruler straight with his head held high.
He was dressed in a custom suit. His gray hair brushed back, showing off his proud, aristocratic face.
What made me wary wasn’t them or how they were dressed. It was the presence of a third person. It looked like I wasn’t the only one to sneak in an unexpected extra. Huston and the man rose to their feet while Mom remained seated.
“Danae, it’s good to see you again. Please, don’t stand all the way over there. Come, let me see you. And please let us each introduce our companions,” Huston said smoothly. His tone was cultured and sounded soothing to the ear.
Heath and I drew nearer to them. We stopped in front of my stepfather and the man.
“My dear, if you don’t mind. Let me introduce our dinner guest first. This is Bolin Zhāng, a work associate and friend. Bolin, this is Dallia’s daughter, Danae. Now, Danae, would you be so kind as to introduce your guest?” It was said smoothly, but I caught the edge of displeasure in his words.
“Certainly, Huston, Dallia, Mr. Zhāng, this is Heath Rugger. I thought it was only appropriate that he attend what I was told would be a family dinner since he’s my boyfriend.”
I enjoyed the look of horror on my mother’s face and the flare of surprise on Huston’s.
As for Mr. Zhāng, something flickered in his expression, but it was gone too soon for me to be able to tell what it was.
My stepfather held out his hand to Heath first, they shook, then Heath did the same to the other man.
Once that was over, Heath showed he had manners by turning to face my mom and bowing.
“Mrs. Masters, we meet at last. I hope adding one won’t upset the staff. Danae wanted to surprise you.”
Her stiff face barely moved as she said cordially, “Yes, my daughter does like to surprise us. It’s good to meet you, Mr. Rugger. Please, won’t you have a seat? Arthur will take your apéritif orders,” she stated.
Heath and I ended up on the settee opposite the one Mom was on, with Huston and Zhāng seated in the chairs at each end of the low table in the center. Arthur came over and bowed.
“What may I get you, sir? Miss?”
“I’ll have whatever that intriguing drink is that Mrs. Masters is having. My love, would you like something?” Heath asked.
“Is that an Aperol cocktail?” I asked Arthur.
“Yes, miss.”
“Then I’ll have the plain blood orange soda without the alcohol. I’m not feeling like any spirits tonight,” I told him.
As Arthur moved off to the bar along one wall, Mom had to remark. “Really, Danae, one drink won’t hurt anything. Don’t be such a stickler.”
“Dallia, I’m not in the mood for alcohol. Either I’ll be polite and drink something with everyone, or I can go without. Which do you prefer?” I arched an eyebrow at her.
“Dallia, let her drink whatever she likes,” Huston said.
There was a long pause before their guest spoke.
“Ms. Seong, your stepfather and mother have told me that you’re in the medical field.”
“That’s right. I’m a physician’s assistant, Mr. Zhāng,” I replied.
“Please, no need to be so formal. Call me Bolin. May I call you Danae and Heath?” he asked.
Both Heath and I nodded.
“Thank you. May I ask, what is the difference between what a physician assistant does and what a physician does? I’m not familiar with that role.”
He spoke excellent English, but his accent made me guess his first language was Chinese, given his features and name.
“Certainly, you may. I can do almost everything a doctor can. The biggest exception is that a PA isn’t allowed to prescribe medications without a licensed doctor overseeing the cases.
Another big one is I can’t perform surgery, though I could assist a doctor.
A licensed physician must provide oversight of my practice, though not breathe down my neck.
But in the scheme of things, there’s not a ton of difference. ”
“Was it fewer years of schooling that attracted you to your current job rather than to becoming a doctor? Or was there another factor? And please, don’t think that I’m disparaging your choice. I’m merely curious what was the deciding reason.”
His words were smooth, and he wore a slight smile the entire time he spoke to me.
“Time was a consideration. If I were to become a doctor, I’d have to add at least four more years, including internships and residency. I wanted to be able to help people as soon as possible, but I wanted to be able to do more than a registered nurse, but not what a nurse practitioner does.”
We were halted by Arthur serving our drinks, then he left the room. No doubt to check to be sure dinner would be ready momentarily. I sipped my soda. There were a few more questions on Bolin’s part about me before attention turned to Heath.
“Heath, what kind of work do you do?” Huston asked.
“Currently, I work for a company that does cybersecurity. However, before I worked for them, I was in the Army. I got out a few years back. I admit, my years in the military helped to prepare me for my work now.”
“Are you from Hampton? What about your family? Are they local?” Mom finally asked. She‘d sat there mostly silent.
“I’m not originally from Virginia, but I settled here five or six years ago. It was no hardship to move. I haven’t seen my parents in twenty years. I have no idea if they’re still with us.”
“It’s such a shame when families grow apart and let misunderstandings come between them.
I don’t know what went wrong between you and your parents, but sometimes, I do know children have no idea what their parents go through.
Or how they must make decisions that seem to be for the wrong reasons, but deep down, they’re not.
I’ve always believed being a parent is one of the toughest jobs out there,” my stepfather replied.
I couldn’t figure out why Mom was so subdued tonight. Even with the presence of Bolin, she would still be taking tiny bites out of me. Before more could be said on that topic or another, Arthur returned.
“Gentlemen, ladies, dinner is now served in the dining room.” His tone was somewhat pompous.
Everyone came to their feet. The glasses were left on coasters on the coffee table.
Huston and Mom took the lead, followed by Bolin, and then Heath and I brought up the rear.
My stomach felt queasy the whole way there.
The vibe of the room and the entire house was off.
I couldn’t put my finger on it, but the hairs on my neck wanted to stand up.
In the formal dining room, there was a table big enough to seat thirty people comfortably.
Thankfully, the place settings were all grouped at one end of the table, not the entire length, so we wouldn’t have to yell to be heard.
The men pulled out the chairs for Mom and me.
Only after we were seated did the guys sit.
I wondered what we would be served for dinner.
Hopefully, something edible and not one of those exotic yet uneatable things Mom loved to experiment with.
I thought she believed the more exotic it was, the more refined she was.
Filled with pretension, Arthur rang a small silver bell. The tinkling sound barely faded before the door between the kitchen and the dining room opened, and in marched the staff. Two of them carried large tureens. The aroma wafting from them was heavenly. My stomach growled.
A rich, creamy, truffle-infused lobster bisque was ladled out of them. After that came a salad—grilled peaches on a field of greens paired with salty prosciutto and crumbled goat cheese, and drizzled with rosemary honey. It was quite good.
Then out came the main dishes. I could never fault their chef for what he made if left to create his own menu.
It has always been excellent. Tonight was no different.
Wagyu beef tartare with a quail egg, pan-seared scallops, herb-crusted rack of lamb, potato gnocchi with sage butter, saffron risotto, roasted summer squash with pesto and parmesan, and sautéed green beans with garlic and bacon.
Then, for dessert, chocolate fondant with salted caramel.
They’d never been ones not to show off with way too much food. If the meal didn’t last two hours, it was poorly done in their minds. The biggest thing about the extensive meal, though, was the sheer number of leftovers. I knew they wouldn’t let the staff have any of them.
When I briefly lived here, they rarely ate leftovers and would have the extras thrown away rather than give them to anyone.
The waste made me sick. According to Mom, poor people ate leftovers.
Rich people didn’t need to do that. I recalled plenty of times growing up when we had them.
She either conveniently forgot that, or she purposefully pretended she hadn’t looked for ways to make over leftovers to make them more exciting and had clipped coupons.
And there was nothing wrong with either of those.
When the meals were over, if it had been a larger party, the men would go to Huston’s private sitting room for drinks and cigars.
The few times Haris had been invited, he told me afterward, they talked about boring things like their golf handicaps or about which competitors they planned to destroy.
And they had things to say about women they slept with, who weren’t their wives.
On the ladies’ side of those same dinners, I listened to them talk about their luncheons with friends, the charities they were on the board of, blah, blah, blah. It had been so boring. However, tonight, we all remained together back in the salon after the meal.