43. Oops, you raised a BAMF
CHAPTER 43
OOPS, YOU RAISED A BAMF
EMMA
M y parents started the Conway foundation before I was born. The way they tell it, when Mom found out she was pregnant, they decided they wanted something to hand down to me. The logic of it escapes me, but then, so do a lot of my parents’ decisions.
In fairness to them, the charitable organization—which funds medical research for children—has done a lot of good. They hired a strong team of people with extensive backgrounds in philanthropy, and they’ve at least been smart enough to know that their own strength lies in bringing in donors, rather than handling the finances themselves (something I am eternally grateful for).
Which is why I’m so furious at them.
Together, they have one job—even calling it a job is generous—and now their reckless addiction to money has put the reputation of the foundation at risk.
I find them mid-meal on the terrace.
“Mom, Dad.”
The legs of the chair squeal as I pull it out and sit.
I don’t bother to cover the pregnant silence, and neither do they, although Mom is close. She’s folded her napkin three times now. Dad’s grip tightens on his coffee, but he says nothing.
Well, I’m glad they’re uncomfortable. They should be.
“I had an interesting conversation with Harvey the other day. My birthday, as it happens, which was nice timing. The conversation was equally pleasant.”
They share a guilty look. Mom’s eyes are rimmed with red, and Dad’s mouth is tugged down. At least they know why I’m here. Surely they saw this coming.
“Is this an intervention?” my dad asks, straightening. “Honestly, Emma?—”
“Dad, I’m sorry, but I’m going to need you to be quiet and listen for a change.”
His mouth clicks shut.
I work hard to balance the benefits I’ve been given. I started in a position higher than most get to. Now I want to make sure I live a life worthy of what we were given for free.
And I’m going to start by ripping away the rose-colored glasses from my parents’ eyes.
“You’re selling the house.”
“I don’t think—” Dad starts, but I raise my hand to stop him.
“I’m done asking. Harvey has already found a realtor he trusts, and I won’t leave until you’ve signed the paperwork. You should have done this five years ago. I did everything I could to make sure you could stay because you promised you’d be more careful, but you broke that promise. Now you don’t have a choice.”
I’m angry. Furious. At them, at Roberts, at Charlie. I’ll be setting all those issues to rights, but first things first. “I can’t believe you lied to me. After everything we went through last time.”
“But—” Mom starts.
“No. No more buts. No more excuses. Don’t tell me it’s just one party. You know it’s more than that. It’s trips to wineries. It’s paying for lunches with your friends. The tennis club you never visit and high-risk investments you can’t afford.”
Dad frowns. “I never invest anything without Harvey’s go-ahead.”
“Yes, because I asked him to do that. Someone needs to make sure you don’t bankrupt yourselves.”
“Emma, please. We’re trying.”
They are. It’s what makes this so frustrating. “I know you are, but it’s not enough.”
“It’s not easy to adjust after a lifetime of living a certain way. It’s been hard enough confining ourselves to this house, hardly ever going out or seeing friends. So many rooms are bare. It feels like we’re living with ghosts.”
“And I’m sorry about that. I can imagine it’s difficult. I hate seeing this house so empty. I miss it just as much as you do. I love this house. It’s why Harvey and I have been working so hard to keep it.”
Suddenly, Dad’s hand is on mine. “Your watch is gone.”
I blink back the tears. They know how much it meant to me. What it means that I’m not wearing it.
Eyes wide, he leans back in his chair and blows out a shaky breath. “Darling, you shouldn’t have done that.”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “You didn’t really give me a choice. If I didn’t, the hire company would have sued the foundation for lack of payment.”
“I’m going to wring Vi’s neck,” Mom says.
It takes more energy than I’d like to admit to keep my voice even. “Violet isn’t the problem.”
Mom raises her brow, and for a moment, it’s so like the way Charlie challenges me that I have to look away.
“I’ll rephrase,” I say. “Violet isn’t blameless, and frankly, I’d be happy to listen to you berate her. But the real issue is that you agreed to the party in the first place. That you’re both still acting as though you have an endless supply of money when we all know that isn’t true. It’s gone, and it’s past time to stop pretending otherwise.”
“You’re right,” she says, lowering her head and wiping at her eyes. “Oh, honey. I wish you’d come here before you’d given up your nana’s watch.”
In my darkest moments, I sour with the urge to punish them, become the reflection of their treatment toward me, and maybe it’s earned.
But I’m not interested in being the arbitrator of their comeuppance.
“It’s fine.” It’s not, but it’ll pass.
“No, Emma,” Dad says. “I’ll call Harvey and sort this out like we should have in the first place. Christ, we’re your parents. We should be taking care of your crises, not the other way around.”
“We’re family. We look out for each other.”
He clasps his hands on the table. “It seems to me that we need to balance that scale.”
“Dad, I’m not keeping score.” I give him a small smile. “I love you. I want to make sure you’re both okay.”
“And I adore you for that, but we’re old enough to take responsibility, and we’ve been doing a poor job of that so far.” Shifting in his chair, he regards me with misty eyes. “I’m sorry that we didn’t hear you before. I know it’s coming too late.”
My chest aches at the sincerity in his voice. “It’s not.”
“Come here.” He stands and holds out his arms, and I rush into them, transported back to the young girl whose father conjured magic to make her smile. So much time has passed, but I still want to believe. “You mean everything to us. I hope you know that. None of this comes close to being as important as you.” He kisses my forehead. “It’s going to require some work on our part, but it’s about time for us to learn some new skills, don’t you think, love?” he asks my mother.
“Absolutely.” She smiles and stands too, and we pull her in.
“It’s time we got Harvey on the phone. With any luck, we can have the house on the market by the end of the week.”
They sort the money stuff out. Dad makes the call to Harvey to sell the house, and Mom calls Violet to tell her they’re stepping down, insisting that as a parting gift, the foundation will throw them a farewell party. “And you’re going to pay for it,” she states.
I’m so proud.
It’s only made better when my father holds up a hand to high-five her. The worst isn’t over. In fact, we’re far from it. Now that they won’t have the foundation, they’ll be more bored than ever, and we’ll have to have several more conversations in order for them to really curb their spending habits. But finally, it feels like they’ve heard me.