Grinning, her beloved mentor walked into the room, but the smile looked forced. Anne appeared wan and worn-down despite wearing a snuggly, coral turtleneck sweater, a color which would otherwise have suited her complexion beautifully. Following the Thanksgiving break, Anne had not quite rebounded to her usual self and had begun teaching her classes from a seated position rather than her usual walking critique. Something was off, but there was a flu-thing going around, so she tried not to read too much into it. Still, if the moment presented, she’d ask William about it. Better yet, she would ask Anne.
“Oh, this is a lovely surprise! You two look positively glowing.”
“It’s freezing out there,” he said.
“I think it’s more than that,” Anne said, with a knowing smile. “What’s this?” she asked referring to the back of a canvas leaning against the side of the desk.
William walked to the painting. “It’s my first attempt, and instead of submitting it to the Manhattan Art League’s juried show, I ... think you should hang it. It’s for you.”
Anne looked to her grinning face, then raised an eyebrow. “You’re painting, William?”
“Yeah, sorta. Lizzy taught me how to wield a palette knife, and I really enjoyed working with the medium. There will be others, but I thought you’d want to immortalize this one beside my turkey finger drawing hanging in your studio.” He chuckled.
“We used acrylic and added a gel so it would dry faster, but it might still be a little tacky,” she added.
He handed his mother the winterscape, then shyly said, “Maybe it’s crap. I don’t know. What do you think?”
“Darling! This is wonderful. You must submit it.”
“You don’t want it?”
“I didn’t say that. It’s spectacular.”
“I made him paint it in person. He froze his butt off, but ... in my inexperienced opinion ... I think it helped to draw out his natural talent. William really captured the cold, and the media was perfectly suited.”
“You’ve been paying attention in class,” Anne joked.
“I finally have a professor worth paying attention to,” she replied.
“So do I,” William said, looking down at her. “Not that you’re not a great teacher, Mom, but Lizzy ... has a way of coaxing the best out of me.” He winked then tenderly smiled. There was no mistaking the love in his eyes.
“Yes, she does.” Again, Anne smiled, but this one felt genuine. She was obviously pleased her matchmaking had paid off and for that, she’d be forever grateful.
TWELVE
Saturday, June 14—Eight and a half weeks until wedding
Darcy hated the Hamptons almost as much as he hated overblown society affairs attended by hangers-on and self-absorbed elitists desperate to remain relevant and revered. This black-tie wedding reception was the precursor to his upcoming overblown wedding. It represented the epitome of everything he despised about excessive wealth, and from the look of the crowd fawning over the newly joined bride and groom, it was going to be a miserable night. At first glance upon entering the ballroom, he surmised he was the flushest guy on the guest list, but he’d never flaunt it. Caroline, on the other hand, was flashing her engagement ring to some woman stuffed into a gold lamé, sparkling sausage casing. He imagined all the bragging his fiancée had subjected everyone to and was glad his morning meeting had run late. Still, he had a show to put on as the happy groom-to-be. His stomach churned at the thought, but when Caroline turned and their eyes met, he felt a tinge of guilt at thinking poorly of his self-made predicament. She was giving the unusual marriage agreement her all. Hell, she had memorized the entire marriage pact. Looking gorgeous, she waved and sauntered across the room, black chiffon gown flowing behind her. “Darcy, youfinallymade it! This is beyond fashionably late.” Her ruby red lips planted a wet one on his mouth, and his arm obligatorily slid around her waist, pulling her closer. He hadn’t kissed her like this in years, not even attheir performative engagement party, but he promised an Oscar-winning act tonight. She moaned in reply. Yeah, she was already drunk. It was going to be a long night.
“We’re just about to sit down for dinner. You’d think Sean would have seen to getting you here earlier.”
“He’s my bodyguard, not my babysitter, and he has the night off.”
She shrugged, taking his hand. “You are not going to believe who is here!”
“Try me.”
“Four congressional reps, two mayors, and the CEO of Sonic Defense!”
“Seriously?” he asked, eyes boring into hers.
“You were right. They are dyyyyinng. Looks like you may have another opportunity to acquire them.”
“More like an opportunity to say, ‘I told you so’.”
“No, make another offer to invest in them. He’s good friends with Daddy, and it would go a long way toward a harmonious future. You should also send him a box of Cubans from your friend down on Canal Street.”
“I’m not sending Cubans to anyone. Sonic had its chance, and once my decision is made, it’s final. Besides, I don’t show favoritism—ever.”
