Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
FAITH
Ididn’t know if I was being brave or going to jinx myself, but I packed only a backpack of clothes for my trip home. Maybe I was trying to assure myself that I would come back. Although, let’s be honest, my parents could replace everything I owned without a second thought.
I shook out my hands and took a deep breath as I climbed up the steps into one of Luxe’s private jets.
I’d never been able to truly defy my mother before, but I guess there was a first time for everything. Or maybe Dad wouldn’t be as indifferent as before?
Stepping into the jet, I was met by my mother’s assistant, Janice.
She gave me the same curt smile as years ago.
“Astrid.” She nodded for me to follow her in her black tailored dress suit and with her hair slicked back into a high ponytail.
It looked so tight, I imagined she had to have a headache.
“Meredith instructed me to assemble a full team and ensure you look presentable once we land.” She gestured around the cabin, which held at least fifteen other people I didn’t recognize.
That part didn’t surprise me; my mother changed wardrobe and hair assistants faster than the trends could keep up with.
That she believed it took an army and an entire flight to make me look “presentable” was slightly offensive.
I glanced down at my yoga pants and soft blue sweater.
My hair was up in a loose, messy bun. This was the real me, and I didn’t want to change back to who I had been.
Was this the first step of many I would concede on?
Or do I start by standing my ground from the start?
I rubbed my forehead; I thought I would at least get the flight to New York until I had to be brave.
But I should have known better. I bit my bottom lip.
Janice leaned in. “Meredith also informed me that if you didn’t comply, to let you know she would refuse your new business idea you plan on proposing.
” Janice cleared her throat and looked to the side.
“If you are choosing to return to Luxe, I’m afraid you must look the part.
” Her eyes went over my hair and clothes, and she shrugged.
“And if I am just trying to see my parents and nothing else?” I wasn’t sure there was a difference between the two, but I was hoping there was.
This was more than I had resisted anyone associated with my parents before, and although I was proud of my newfound strength, I could feel my hands shaking and my stomach filling with nausea.
Janice leaned in close and whispered, “Then I might add that whatever you are hoping to accomplish, it will be much easier if you choose your battles wisely.”
“Spoken like a woman who knows my mother well.”
Janice hid a smile and cleared her throat.
“Well, let’s get this over with.” I sighed. Choosing my battles was wise. This wasn’t one that was worth the stress.
Janice stepped behind me and gestured me forward, and the assembled makeover team headed behind the curtains beyond my view.
I followed them and grimaced at the piles of tools, machines, and product.
I could remember the hours with similar torture devices before, but I had gotten so used to my easy routine of a little light makeup and simple hairstyles.
“Choose your battles.” I murmured under my breath. “For Hillsdale.” I closed my eyes and was led to the first station.
Over the next several hours, I felt like Sandra Bullock in Miss Congeniality. I was waxed, tweezed, dyed, and dressed up to be someone I no longer recognized in the mirror. Something that seemed more product than person.
Although I would never admit it to my mother, I loved the new hairstyle, not that I got to choose it. It was full of subtle highlights and now rested below my collarbone. Also, these leopard print heels weren’t bad either. I’m keeping these for enduring her makeover torture.
As the plane landed, I thanked and gave a quick hug to everyone who was assigned to help with my current status.
Each stiffened and glanced around in fear before they gave a small smile and a nod in return.
I knew my mother would hate to see me “talking with the help,” but I refused to be that person.
Each of these people gave of their time and expertise, and I was grateful for it.
The door opened, and before I went onto the first step, the clicking of cameras reached my ears and the reporters started yelling over one another to be answered.
“Astrid, where have you been?”
“Astrid, have you been sick?”
My hands shook, and nausea climbed up my throat. My mind recalled years of flashing lights, cameras, and questions yelled in my direction.
I took a deep breath, held it for three, and slowly blew out. I spun my anxiety ring and took another deep breath. “Okay, suck in your screams.”
“Astrid, we heard you had been in France?”
“Astrid, are you home to stay?”
I put a practiced polite smile on my face. Slowly building a barrier between the real me and the version people got to question and exploit. I sighed. Janice tapped my shoulder.
“Here.” She handed me a pair of sunglasses. “I feel like these help.”
I looked over at her. “Thank you, Janice.”
She grinned and then stepped behind me, returning to an almost invisible presence.
“Astrid, is it true you were pregnant?
Wait what?
I held my head high as I walked down the stairs.
I kept my smile tight as I went toward the limo that was parked on the tarmac.
Wesley, our driver for as long as I could remember, opened the door, and my mother stepped out with full lips, blond hair, and a body that statistically was probably younger than mine.
I stutter stepped.
I hadn’t expected to face her until we were at our New York house—the one designed by Andrew Stern. I’d always called it Stern House, though Mother never approved. With it being March, I knew they would stay there from now until summer.
She held her arms out in a forced gesture.
Did she want me to hug her?
“Astrid, my darling. We are so glad you have finally returned home.” She added loudly enough for the reporters to hear. Dad stepped out next in his stiff suit and blue tie.
I stopped in my tracks. Wait. Dad?
I rarely even saw him at the house growing up. He was like a glimmer that flickered in and out of view, but never stayed long. Always rushing to the next appointment or next golf something.
But he came here now? To the airport? Was it to see me? My brain couldn’t keep up with all the new input it was receiving.
He walked around the car and stood near Mom’s side. He seemed older than before, and his shoulders drooped in a way they hadn’t before. Had he lost weight? His gray hair was parted and gelled to the left.
“Look at us,” my mother added for the benefit of the reporters. “The Luxe family is back together at last.” She smiled larger for the cameras than she ever had for me.
“How about a family picture?” Someone called from behind me.
“What a wonderful idea!” Mom held her hand to her heart, as if surprised. Like this publicity stunt hadn’t always been the plan.
I stood in front of my mother, who pulled me in for a stiff, awkward side hug, keeping her “good side” to the cameras. Physical connection was never a strong suit for her.
I glanced at Dad. He opened his arms wide and pulled me into a hug, and he held me tighter than he ever had before. Strange.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Hey, Astrid.” He rested his chin on top of my head, and I leaned back and looked at him, my eyebrows furrowed. His blue eyes drank me in, and his grin seemed just for me, like the cameras weren’t even there. “I’ve missed you, kiddo.”
I smiled back. He hadn’t called me that since I was little. He pulled me in for another hug.
“Alexander, you’re going to ruin her makeup with your theatrics.” My mother grumbled as she turned me around for the cameras.
I thought her word choice was rather ironic.
“Family picture.” My mother called out in a cheerful voice for other people’s benefit. “Lose the glasses.” She growled at me.
“Of course, Mom.” I said. Her hand tightened on my shoulder.
“Or do you still prefer Meredith?” I raised a brow as I met her eyes and squeezed my hand into a fist to keep it from trembling.
“Or is this another one of those not in front of the cameras type topics?” Everything was always not in front of the cameras, and then ignored and deflected once home.
She didn’t give a verbal response, but her eyes held daggers as she gestured to the cameras.
I turned, posed, and smiled like I had been taught to do since the time I learned to walk. My dad squeezed my shoulder, but somehow it felt different from Mom’s.
Mom earned one point for my appearance and cameras, but I’m saying I get a point for talking back to her, when I was terrified.
“I can’t believe my baby is back to stay!” Mom glowed for the cameras.