Gabriella smiles widely at me. Is she really interested in me? And if she is, why wouldn’t she just message me and suggest a drink? Why would she go along with this weird lunch where it’s clear we’re being set up but nobody can mention it? It’s not like we don’t know each other. She’s probably just trying to please her mother, just like I try to please mine.
Cooper comes in and announces lunch is ready. We all head into the dining room. Even if my mind wasn’t full of Iris, I wouldn’t be interested in Gabriella. This is just a huge waste of time.
The first dish is served, and Frieda and Gabriella comment on the beautiful presentation and the delicate china. I can tell my mother is imagining our intermingled lives. In New York’s strict social hierarchy, the Alden family is probably a tier above the Campbells. Not from a financial perspective. Generations ago, the Campbells made a lot of money through imports and exports from Europe and Asia. But just from the historic relationships that the Aldens have throughout the world. My great-uncle married a Norwegian princess. It always helps to have a little royal blood in your family tree. And the Aldens support the arts in New York in a way that no other family does. Our patronage of the New York City Ballet goes back since its inception.
But my mother will think this a good match. Gabriella is young enough to have as many children as it takes to get a boy—vital for the Alden name to continue. And my mother gets on well with Frieda. She understands and respects the hierarchy.
“How was Harvard?” I ask Gabriella, who’s seated next to me. My mother is deliberately engaging Frieda in conversation to allow Gabriella and me to talk. It’s painful.
“I enjoyed it,” she says. “The campus is beautiful and Boston isn’t far from New York.”
I let out a genuine laugh to this. I’m usually the one who measures any place that isn’t New York by the distance it is to Manhattan.
“I actually really did love the weekends spent on the Cape. I would even consider having a regular home there. It really is lovely.”
“We have a place on the Vineyard,” I say. I’m sure she knows about our family vacation home there and that’s why she mentioned it.
We chitchat about Boston and the Vineyard. It’s polite. Friendly even. But nothing more.
“So what’s your plan, now that you’ve finished your master’s?”
She pulls in a breath, while shooting a glance at her mother. She lowers her voice. “Well, I’d like to go to Europe. I’ve never spent any extended time there. I’d like to go to museums, hang out in Parisian cafes. Just for a little bit. You know?” She smiles at me, and I can tell it’s genuine.
“It’s a secret?” I ask her, lowering my voice to match hers.
She shrugs. “Mother thinks I’m getting old. She’s worried I’m going to get left on the shelf.” She rolls her eyes. “What is the shelf, anyway? That’s what I want to know. I’m twenty-six. I don’t want to be having children for a decade. I’ve got a life to live.”
I stifle a chuckle. If my mother knew Gabriella didn’t want kids for ten years, I don’t think she’d let them finish their first course before she had them both escorted out.
“You should go to Europe,” I say. “You never know who you might meet.”
“Well, exactly. I’m so bored of New York guys,” she says. She blushes. “I don’t mean to be rude.”
I shake my head. “No offense taken.” It’s a relief to know that Gabriella is as uninterested in me as I am in her. “If you want to go to Europe, that’s what you should do. Don’t give up on that just because of… parental expectations.”
She smiles. “Easier said than done. You know that.”
“I do,” I reply. “Seeing as you’ve told me a secret, I’ll share one with you. I had no idea you and your mother would be heretoday. My mother summoned me to a one-on-one lunch this morning.”
Her face freezes, her mouth in a hard line. “I was told you were the one who suggested the lunch. As if we can be tricked into liking each other.”
I laugh. “Turns out Idolike you.”
“But I mean romantically.” It’s clear we’re both on the same page as it concerns our compatibility as life partners.
“What are you two so deep in conversation about over there?” my mother asks. She turns to Frieda. “I knew they would find lots in common.”
“We’re just chitchatting about the house on the Vineyard.”
Mother nods and resumes her conversation with Frieda.
“So what about you, Jack?” Gabriella says. “I want to go to Europe. What do you want to do?”
Her question gets my attention. Gabriella wants to escape to Paris. It’s never even occurred to me that I could leave New York. Not for any extended period of time.
I admire her for thinking outside the expectations of her. I hope she makes it to Paris.
When Frieda and Gabriella have left, my phone buzzes.
