Audrey makes a sound that might be a cough. Might be a laugh. Jury’s out.
Caleb the Second's smile tightens. "Well, yes, we've had the same driver for years."
How... reliable." The word lands with just enough emphasis. "Thank you for having me in your home. It's lovely."
The aggressive politeness clearly throws him for a second; it's harder to combat someone who won't rise to the bait.
"Caleb," his father recovers smoothly, "why don't you help your brother with the drinks? I'm sure James and I can find something to discuss."
Before Caleb can protest, his father's already turning back to me. "Webmaster, is it?" The way he says it, as if he's identifying my species, but it does confirm that he heard our painful conversation. "Quite the digital age we're living in."
"Yes, sir."
"Caleb,"Caroline interrupts, "I need your help in the kitchen. Maria is having trouble with the table settings." She gives him a look that brooks no argument.
Caleb hesitates, glancing between his mother and me with obvious reluctance. "I'm sure Maria has it under control?—"
"It will only take a moment, darling," she insists, already moving toward the door.
Caleb shoots me an apologetic look. "I'll be right back."
As soon as he's gone, his brothers make their excuses as well. Thomas suddenly remembers a call he needs to make,and Robert offers to help his wife find something upstairs. Within moments, I'm alone with Caleb Huntington II, exactly as planned, it seems.
"So," he says, motioning to a pair of leather chairs by the fireplace, "let's talk, James."
I sit down in the chair he pointed to, trying to keep my face blank. Warning bells are ringing in my head. "What would you like to talk about, Mr. Huntington?"
"Call me Caleb," he says with a smile that says he would rather never see me again as long as he lives. "After all, we should be on a first-name basis, considering your... relationship with my son."
"Alright, Caleb."
He leans back, studying me with the practiced ease of a career politician. "I'll be direct, James. I appreciate a young man's desire to explore his options while in university. It's a time for experimentation, for finding oneself." His tone suggests he's being incredibly reasonable. "But my son has a future to consider. A family legacy to uphold."
"I'm aware of that."Careful. Be careful.
"Are you?" He leans forward. "Because from where I'm sitting, it seems like you might be a distraction at a critical time in his life."
"With all due respect, sir, I think Caleb is capable of managing both a relationship and his responsibilities."
He chuckles, and it's the most joyless sound I've ever heard. "You know, when I was about your age, I thought I was in love with someone my family disapproved of. I was convinced we were meant to be together, that she understood me like no one else could." He swirls the amber liquid in his glass. "My father sat me down and explained the facts of life to me. About responsibility. About the long game."
"And you broke up with her." Yeah, this is going exactly where it looks like it's going.
"I did what was necessary." His gaze hardens. "And twenty years later, I was governor of this state, married to a woman who understood the demands of public life, with three sons to carry on my name." He pauses. "The girl I thought I loved? Last I heard, she was teaching kindergarten in Nevada. A fine profession, but not the partnership I needed to achieve my goals."
"I'm not sure what this has to do with me and Caleb."
"Don't you?" He sets down his glass with a sharp click against the side table. "Let me be perfectly clear, James. My son may think he wants this... experiment... right now. But his true future lies in following the path set for him. Law school. A respectable position. Eventually, politics."
"That's for Caleb to decide, isn't it?"
"In theory, perhaps." His smile turns cold. "But Caleb has always been easily influenced by the wrong people." The look on his face tells me precisely what he thinks of me as a person. "A father's job is to protect his son from those influences."
The implication hangs in the air between us. I force myself to hold his gaze, refusing to be intimidated.
"I'm going to make you an offer, James." He reaches into his jacket and pulls out a chequebook. "Seventy-five thousand dollars. Cash or check, your preference. In exchange, you end this relationship. Quietly. Respectfully. You go your way, Caleb goes his. No drama, no scenes."
For a moment, I'm too stunned to speak. Staring at the chequebook, then back at his face, searching for some sign that this is a joke. There is none.
