Chapter 2
“Welcome home, Miss Hayden,”Stanton greeted in his crisp English accent.
The aging butler had been with my family for as long as I could remember. My parents had met him on their honeymoon in London. When they returned home to the States, they had Stanton with them—along with me, though they didn’t know my mom was pregnant at the time.
“I’ve missed you, Stanton,” I said as I hugged him.
Despite his aloof exterior, I had no issue showing him affection.
He pulled back and stood straight, his spine showing no signs of age, unlike his lined face. “Your mother and stepfather are in the salon.”
“Cocktail hour?” I asked in amusement.
He inclined his head and closed the door behind me.
I looked around the foyer and my eyes narrowed. “Mom redecorated again?”
“She did.”
I held in a sigh.
Six different reiterations in the last three years. It was as though the moment she finished one redecoration she started all over again.
My heels clacked across the gleaming dark mahogany floors that were original to the house. My mother sat on a cream-colored couch, her spine erect as she sipped a martini, her blonde hair pulled back into a neat chignon. At her ears and throat were the pearls that had belonged to my grandmother.
Marilyn Edith Corbin Spencer Walsh was beautiful, elegant and petite, and she exuded a natural friendliness. She was neither standoffish nor snobby. Her every move indicated she was old money, yet most people seemed to forget that fact after a few minutes in her presence.
I took after my mother in stature, but I hadn’t escaped my father’s genetics. Same dark hair, same brown eyes. It hurt Mom to look at me sometimes.
“Hayden,” she greeted, a warm smile drifting across her face.
“Hi,” I said, meeting her smile with one of my own. I walked over to the couch and sat down next to her. I brushed my cheek against hers and noticed it was still smooth in spite of her age.
When I pulled back, she gently cupped my face and peered at me. “You look tired.”
I rolled my eyes. “I went out with Charlie last night. I’m fine.”
“You went out?” Her brows rose and wrinkled slightly, despite the delicate work she’d had done.
“I went out,” I repeated. “Where’s Arnold?”
“He had to take a call. He’ll be back in a bit. So, you and Charlie went out.”
“Still on that, are we?” I asked as I rose. I went to the antique liquor cart near the unlit stone fireplace and filled a rocks glass with ice.
“It’s just out of character for you, that’s all.”
“She begged.” I unscrewed a bottle of club soda and poured it into my glass and garnished it with a lime.
“Dina’s worried about her,” Mom said.
“Dina worries about everything,” I said. “It’s her nature.”
“So, there’s nothing for her to worry about?” Mom pressed.
I loved my mother, but we did not share confidences. Anything I said to her would get reported back to Charlie’s mom—a woman I loved dearly, and not just because she was my godmother.
“There’s nothing to worry about,” I lied. “She stayed with me last night.”
Charlie had snuck out before I’d even gotten up. She knew I’d bug her into talking if I fed her.
“Hmm.” My mother lifted the martini to her lips and took a small sip. “Anything else interesting to report? Anything new?”
I shook my head. “No, nothing new.”
My stepfather entered the salon. His dark hair was still full, even if half of it was gray. Arnold Walsh was tall, commanding, and dressed casually in a pair of khakis, a crisp white polo, and the finest loafers money could buy. He looked ready for lunch at the club.
“Hayden,” he said, flashing a grin and showing off his perfect veneers.
“Hi, Arnold.”
He walked over to the drink cart and embraced me. “Sorry I wasn’t here. Business call.”
I waved away his excuse. “No worries. Mom and I were just catching up.”
“Ah.” He poured himself three fingers of single malt scotch and then took his drink to the couch and sat down next to Mom.
“Hayden and Charlie went out last night,” Mom explained, a devilish twinkle in her blue eyes.
“Hayden went out last night? Voluntarily?” Arnold teased.
“Okay, me going out isn’t that big of a deal. Can we please talk about something else?”
Before Mom or Arnold got a word out, Stanton appeared in the doorway. “Paula wanted me to inform you that dinner is ready.”
“Good, I’m starving,” Arnold stated.
We took our drinks and moved into the formal dining room that could seat twelve. The three of us sat at one side of the table.
It wasn’t until the lobster in cream sauce entrée was served that my mother turned the conversation to the charity gala she was organizing.
“You’re coming, aren’t you?” Mom asked. “I don’t want to hear any excuses. You’ve got a few weeks to find a dress.”
“I already told you I was,” I said absently.
“And you’re not dating anyone, are you?”
I lifted my gaze from my plate. “Who is he?”
“He who?” Her eyelids fluttered as she feigned innocence.
“Mom.”
“Walker Lawton Anderson.” She paused. “The Third.”
I frowned. “Why does that name sound familiar?”
“His father is Walker Anderson the Second,” Mom supplied. “Senator Walker Anderson.”
I groaned. “Mom, no. No senators’ sons.”
“What about a judge’s son? Too poor? How about the son of an oil tycoon?” Arnold asked with a stamp of amusement across his mouth. He reached for his glass of scotch.
“Worried I’m approaching spinsterhood?” I asked, pointing the question to my mother.
“Well, you haven’t dated anyone since Tyler,” she said. “And that’s been, what? Two years?”
“Closer to three,” Arnold corrected.
“Right.” Mom nodded as she cut another bite of lobster.
I rubbed the spot over my right eyebrow. “I know you mean well, but I’m happy with my life. So please stop trying to set me up with men in your circle.”
My mom shot Arnold a look. He raised his brows.
“What?” I demanded.
“Your mother already told Walker about you,” Arnold said.
I groaned. “Mom.”
“What? I want grandchildren.”
“I’m twenty-five. I have plenty of time to have children.”
“Let’s say you meet a man and you date for a year before you get engaged. It’ll take another year to plan the wedding. And then another year to really set up your home. And then it’ll be a year after that before you get pregnant. That’s four years! You’ll be almost thirty. How much time do you think you have?”
“Old-fashioned much?” I asked, trying to hold in my laughter and anxiety. My mother did not like to be laughed at.
“Geriatric eggs are a risk. For you and the baby. And you won’t just want one child…”
“You and Dad only had me,” I pointed out. “I don’t see any siblings running around, do you?”
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
“We wanted more children, but nature said no. What if it takes you a long time to get pregnant? You might have to do IVF.”
“IVF is invasive. Just like this conversation,” I said pointedly.
“Don’t listen to your mother,” Arnold said. “There’s no rush. You’re young. You should be enjoying life, not worried about getting serious and having a family. Plenty of time for that.”
“If you got married, you’d be able to take your seat on the board.”
“Marilyn,” Arnold warned.
“What?” My mother batted her eyes with sham innocence.
My stepfather looked at me and sighed. “I’m sorry, Hayden.”
“It’s not your fault,” I assured him.
“Just so you know, there’s no rush.” Arnold shot me a commiserating smile. “I’m happy to oversee things until you’re ready.”
I liked the direction of this conversation even less than the one discussing marriage and babies. I dabbed my mouth with my cloth napkin and gently set it next to my plate before rising.
“Where are you going?” Mom asked.
“I have an early morning,” I said.
“You’re leaving? Before dessert? I had Paula make pear tarts with homemade vanilla bean ice cream.”
“You know I don’t eat dessert. And I really do have an early morning.”
I walked around to the other side of the table and kissed the top of my mother’s head. “I love you. I’ll call you later. Bye, Arnold.”
“Bye, Hayden.” Arnold looked at my mom. “I told you, Marilyn.”
She sighed. “Yes, you did.”
I headed out of the dining room, the sound of their conversation drifting away as I walked down the immaculate hallway to the foyer.
Stanton waited at the door with my purse. I arched a brow. “How did you know?”
“I know all.” He cracked a smile. “I can’t remember the last time you stayed through an entire dinner.”
“My mother is in rare form…”
“She is,” he said.
I kissed his cheek. “It was good to see you, Stanton.”
“You too, Miss Hayden.”
I was halfway home when my phone rang. I pressed a button on the steering wheel, answering the call.
“How did I know you escaped Sunday dinner early?” Charlie asked.
“Because I am nothing if not predictable,” I joked.
“What did she do?”
“We talked about my geriatric eggs. She’s concerned I’ll never get married or have children. So she told a senator’s son about me. He’ll be at the charity gala.”
“Yikes. Good thing I’ll be your wingwoman. You don’t even sound mad about it though.”
“I’m not. She’s persistent, but harmless. I take it for what it is.”
“Want me to have sex with the senator’s son in a coat closet? Can’t go after you if he’s busy getting laid, right?”
I laughed. “I’m not telling you not to do it…”
“Green light. What’s his name?”
“Walker Anderson the Third. He’s Senator Anderson’s son.”
“Okay, let me look him up. He may not be attractive at all. And if he’s not attractive, I rescind my offer in full.”
I smiled. “A senator’s son would be the perfect man to bring home to your parents. Just remember that.”
“Damn it. Not only are you right, but he’s also hot.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. Like an All-American football star from the 1950s who wears a red letterman jacket and goes to Rydell High.”
“Does he look like Lorenzo Lamas, too?” I teased.
“Yep.”
“Are you weak in the knees?”
“No. I’m wet in my panties.”
“I’m hanging up now.”
“Introduce me,” she begged. “And I’ll do the rest.”
“Bye, Charlie.”
“Bye.”
I hung up with my best friend, laughing, knowing the charity event wouldn’t be nearly as boring because Charlie would be there.
God, I loved her.