“Whitney.”
“Are you keeping company with him?”
I’m not sure what “keeping company” entails, but today is the first time I’ve talked to Tanner since Leah’s pool party. I’ve mostly flirted with him in the hopes that he’d offer to get me a drink, which he did. Sort of. The delivery was lacking.
“He’s not courting me or anything,” I answer, toeing the line of impudence, but not bold enough to cross over.
Grandpa studies me, the weight of his scrutiny stifling. “Good,” he declares. “No Whitney is worthy of a Kensington.”
“Tanner is nice,” I say defensively. And mostly to be contrarian.
“Stuart Whitney is sitting on a pile of debts and no capital. I’m sure he’s urged his son to take advantage of any association with you.”
I want to say Grandpa is being paranoid, but who knows? It’s not like plenty of people haven’t tried to use me in some way.
“There aren’t many guys I can date with more money,” I tell Grandpa. “It’s not like Lili or Kit wound up with billionaires.”
Lili’s boyfriend, Charlie, is British. He comes from an important family, but no fortune. Collins, Kit’s girlfriend, was roommates with Lili in college, which is how she and Kit met. She later wound up working for Kit. For the salary, not for my cousin’s company, as she’d be the first to tell you.
“They didn’t,” Grandpa agrees. “But Charles attended Oxford, and Collins went to Yale.”
Of course. I should have anticipated exactly where this was headed from the moment Grandpa appeared.
“Good for them.”
“It is not too late to change your plans, Wren.”
“It’s way too late,” I counter. “Orientation is next month.”
Grandpa makes a dismissive gesture with his hand. “I could get you enrolled at any university in the world by tomorrow. The East Coast has plenty of exceptional schools. Oxford is an excellent institution. So is Cambridge. My uncle went there.”
“I don’t want special treatment.”
“Want or not, you will receive it. You are a Kensington, and you are limiting yourself with this absurd choice.”
“UCLA is an excellent college,” I state stubbornly.
Grandpa lifts his glass, swirling the contents around. I watch the amber liquid splash up the sides and drip down, wishing he’d hurry up and make his point so I can go grab a lobster roll.
“Twelve generations ago, one of your ancestors was part of Harvard’s first-ever commencement. Since then, every Kensington, including your father and sister, have attended the oldest, most prestigious academic institutions. The California universities might be ‘excellent,’ but they do not boast that type of legacy.”
“Mom went to good schools too,” I state.
“Your mother is a Kensington by marriage, not by blood. It is different for you, Wren.”
I stop arguing, deciding that might be the best strategy to end this conversation soonest.
“It is your decision, of course,” Grandpa continues. “Just makecertain it’s the correct one.”
I nod as hefinallywalks off to speak to someone else.
Then I immediately start glancing around, trying to locate Tanner because I could really use that drink right about now.
“Shortcake?”
I glance at Bash, who’s holding two plates of dessert. One is extended toward me.
“Thanks,” I say, taking a plate.
