“Yes, ma’am. I’ll call her.”Ah, dammit.My first ever lie to Mrs. Carrington. “I’m glad you two were able to stay friends.”
“Naomi had no idea what your dad was up to, Taio. Neither did you. We don’t hold either of you at fault.”
The corner of my lip twitches, maybe a warning that I shouldn’t open up this can of worms, but before I know it, the words are out. “Then why isn’t Mr. Carrington here?”
She takes an exaggerated sip from her champagne. “Because Richard is a dimwit who struggles to separate the sin from the sinner. He sees what was lost, he’s not thinking about who stole it.”
“He’s not alone. I think that’s the majority’s opinion.” I take a long drink of champagne, letting the bubbles burn my throat. “My mom wanted me to come with her. Start over in Tokyolike the last twenty-seven years of my life didn’t happen. But I couldn’t just abandon my dad when he needed me most.”
“And staying here, cleaning up his mess—that’s better?”
“He’s my dad.”
It sounds pathetic even to my own ears. A child’s argument.He’s my dad.As if that explains anything. As if that justifies the choices I’ve made, the things I’ve done, the person I’ve become.
Anne is quiet for a moment. Then: “You know I love you, Taio. I’ve known you since you were six years old, following Alaina around like a puppy, trying so hard to impress her father.” A sad smile crosses her face. “You were so nervous the first time you told me and Richard that you and Alaina had decided to go steady. I mean, I couldn’t believe how time flew. You went from wetting the bed at my house so many times to dating my teenage daughter in the blink of an eye.”
“I mean I don’t think it wasthatmany times,” I mutter, a little embarrassed for six-year-old Taio.
“What your father did was unfathomable. He stole from us, from everyone who trusted him. Richard will never forgive him—you know that. But I don’t blame you. I never have.” She leans forward slightly. “And I don’t want to see you waste your life trying to atone for his mistakes.”
I don’t have an answer for that, so I change the subject. “How’s Joy?”
Anne’s expression shifts—still soft, but with an undercurrent of something heavier. Worry, maybe. “She’s…sixteen. You know how that goes. Moody and dramatic. Convinced that no one in the history of the world has ever suffered as much as she has.”
“Charming.” I smirk.
“Indeed.” Anne takes another sip of champagne. “Although, she did have quite a night a few weeks ago. I took her to that concert—you know, the pop star she’s been obsessed with? Charlie Riley?”
The name rings a vague bell. Blonde, I think. Young. One of those ubiquitous faces that shows up on magazine covers at the grocery store. “What about it?”
“Well, the poor thing collapsed on stage. Right in the middle of her set. She just went down like a robot powering off. They had to cancel the whole show.”
“Geez.”
“We paid a fortune for those VIP tickets, right up against the front barrier. Charlie could’ve sweat on us that close.” Anne shakes her head. “Joy said she didn’t care and claims she was ‘so over’ Charlie Riley anyway. You know how teenagers are. But I know she was devastated. We’d been saving for months.”
The guilt twists deeper. Three years ago, Anne wouldn’t have thought twice about VIP concert tickets. Three years ago, I could’ve bought them myself without checking my bank account.
“I’m sorry that happened. Is there another city you could see the show in?”
Anne’s hair, glued down by hairspray, doesn’t budge as she shakes her head, almost violently. “From what I understand, the entire tour is canceled until further notice. Such a waste. And it was the last thing she needed after getting her Stanford letter.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “Stanford? She already applied?” Joy and I always got along great. I treated her like a little sister because that’s what she was always supposed to be. Going to Stanford was her absolute dream.
“She got her early admission letter last month.”
“That’s amazing. Go Joy! But why don’t you seem more excited?”
“We were.” Anne’s smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “For about three days. Until we sat down and really looked at the numbers.”
I already know where this is going. I can feel it coming like a train in the distance—the low rumble before the impact.
“Out-of-state tuition,” Anne says quietly. “Room and board. Books, travel, living expenses. We’re looking at almost a hundred thousand dollars for the first year alone. We’re maxed out on loans, and with the savings gone…” She lets the silence finish the sentence.
With the savings gone. Because my father stole it.
“I’m out of retirement,” she continues. “Did I tell you that? I’m back at the firm three days a week, trying to rebuild what we lost faster. But at our age, and with Richard’s health…” She stops, composes herself. “Right now, we just don’t have anything to spare. Joy is looking at scholarship opportunities at an in-state school. It’ll be okay.”
