Chapter 11 #3
He’d dismissed my sister without even saying a word to her, just the same as how he’d spoken over her when she’d provoked Dominic about his politician lover and ignored her multiple attempts to bait his temper.
Ordering ketchup to go with her salad. Applauding as a diner mistimed their stand and hit a passing waiter, sending a tray of drinks flying.
Attention-seeking behaviour at its finest, and worse than she’d ever been before. My hopes for a happier situation slowly ground into dust.
My sister’s eyes filled with tears, then she leapt to her feet, knocking her chair over in her haste to flee the table. In a flash, she’d punched open the restaurant’s exit and vanished.
A hushed silence fell, the attention of the restaurant on our group.
“Excuse me.” I stood, needing to go after Scarlet.
“Stay,” Dad ordered. “We don’t indulge tantrums.” He said it in the way presidents say they don’t negotiate with terrorists.
I sent a pleading gaze to Mom, but she dabbed her mouth with a serviette and remained in her seat, not meeting my eye.
“Yes, stay,” echoed Dominic, his voice as smooth as honey. “You need to hear about this ass—pardon me, this guy, who thinks he can sue us because he can’t read small print. Isn’t that right, Maximus?”
Dominic slapped a hand on the table, garbling something about ungrateful Scots, and I slowed, collecting my bag and jacket, my brain catching up.
Dad was being sued over Storm Force? It couldn’t be.
No, Callum would have said.
In that second, I was utterly torn. I needed to go after my sister. I had to hear what Callum had done.
“Laird Callum McRae,” Dominic pronounced, looking directly at me. “Tell me that meathead of a guy needs the cash? Google him. He’s old money. Rich as Croesus. You can practically smell the privilege.”
Dad’s gaze turned black, and my heart froze as I paused at the corner of the table, waiting for my mother to move out of my way. Mom fussed over keeping her dress from touching the table, and the pressure had me dying inside.
No, no, no, this couldn’t be true.
“What are you talking about?” I didn’t need to ask—I hadn’t misheard Dominic abuse Callum’s name. I just wished I had.
“Some jumped-up Scot thinks he can take me to court.” Dad’s cheeks flushed, and he clutched the stem of his wineglass, the red liquid slopping. “Because he has a title and land that his ancestors plundered.”
Zoning out, I slipped past Mom, nudging her elbow and muttering an apology. I knew how Dad’s rant would go. He despised landed gentry, anyone who wasn’t a self-made man like him. Dominic was playing to that, talking about privilege when he himself was as upper-middle-class as it got.
But where Dad could ignore that in his business partner, would he do the same with a guy like Callum? No. He wouldn’t. My chance of bringing his name into the conversation vanished.
Even so, I couldn’t let it go. Loyalty to Callum surged, dislodging my usual calm.
At the end of the table, I paused. “Maybe if we acted with integrity we could be fair in paying our contracts,” I snapped, then I gave a meaningful look to Dominic before swinging my gaze back to my mother. “Mom, I’m going after Scarlet.”
“There really is no need. She does this all the time,” Mom finally spoke, her accent soft but distinctly Californian.
She regained her seat and smoothed her dress out.
“We’re only ten minutes from home. Or if she hasn’t gone there, then she’ll be in Regent’s Park—she goes to the boating lake with her friends after school.
Just like you did at that age, though you never behaved like she does.
Now, darling, your father wants you to finish your conversation.
Surely you don’t want to upset him further? ”
On my mother’s striking face, I searched for any kind of masked worry.
For years, she’d carried herself in a sort of bubble, with blithe smiles and a placid air, and I wanted to shake the emotion out of her.
I searched hard to see in her the distance she and Dad had travelled, the pain she had gone through to have her lover run out on her, and her contrite behaviour to a husband she still loved.
But all I saw was a flighty, overindulged star who’d made a huge mistake, damaged everyone around her, and ducked the consequences by zoning out.
Mom loved Scarlet, I was sure of that, but she ignored my father’s behaviour and its effects, because facing it would mean tackling Dad. I knew why she didn’t want to rake over that ground—Dad could be unbearable in one of his moods. But she’d never even tried. Neither had he.
I loved them both, but it didn’t mean I could readily forgive either of them.
“Will you stay?” she asked, no true emotion in her eyes.
“No. Will you help me find her?” My reply was thin and small, and I cleared my throat. “Please.”
Mom’s pleasant expression faltered. “I… Your father is still eating.” Then she smiled like she’d had an epiphany. “I’ll send Scarlet a message and tell her when we’ll be home.”
Right. “Dad, Mr Hanswick, please accept my apologies for leaving early. Mom, I’ll call you next week.” I pushed away from the table, about as angry as I allowed myself to get.
The click of my heels raced my heartbeats as I followed Scarlet’s flight path to the restaurant exit, unsure of which I was more worried about: helping my sister or calling Callum.