Chapter seventeen
The Whitmores
We’ve arrived in the Hamptons. Our drive to the Whitmore estate is peaceful for the majority of the ride. My thoughts go blank as soon as the song “Supercut” by Lorde plays. I wish every moment could be this simple.
A good song, a good drive and just some nice fucking scenery to make me feel less claustrophobic about what I am walking into.
As I come out of some sort of trance, I hear Aidan say, “We’re here. Just remember to squeeze my hand three times if you are overwhelmed.”
For the first time in weeks, it feels like he understands. In front of me is another cascading driveway, leading to what feels like a smaller version of their California estate.
This house looks like it belongs in a Ralph Lauren photo campaign—all rich, classic colors: white, brown, blue and green. A navy-blue door with vines draped alongside the white paint.
A true New England–style home, complete with a pool, sauna, hot tub and the constant scent of sea breeze hanging in the air like background noise.
The song ends.
The staff is immediately signaled by our arrival, standing patiently as our car pulls alongside the front lawn so they can unload our suitcases. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mrs. Whitmore glide into view, dressed in a floor-length white sundress.
I take a deep breath as Aidan comes around to my side, preparing to show me off properly.
“Mom!” Aidan is rushing to her side, taking her into a bear hug. When it’s my turn, I settle for a side hug and an awkward pat on the back.
“Your father is out back, fussing with that sailboat of his. Can you give him a hand?” She gently pats his back. When he releases from her hug, I cup my hand against Aidan’s, giving him three gentle squeezes against his palm.
“Sweetie, hurry up now. Your father is waiting,” Mrs. Whitmore says. I can feel her eyes on me as I watch Aidan shift his feet, unsure where to move.
“Aidan…”
She flexes her jaw and Aidan gives a sharp nod, turning to me to leave a gentle kiss on my forehead, whispering in my ear so only I can hear. “I won’t be gone long.”
Mustering a slow, stretching smile as she watches, Aidan slips inside.
“Now, young lady, come with me.”
She wraps the crook of her arm inside of mine. We walk, interlocked, toward the living room where I sit opposite of her. Already on display at the coffee table is a cascading display of mini sandwiches and tea. I dive in, hoping I can fill up on food and she can do all the talking.
I know very well that Aidan won’t be back soon.
Mrs. Whitmore did that intentionally.
“So I will cut to the chase. I am sure Aidan told you how important tonight is. I wouldn’t have summoned the both of you if it wasn’t so important for the family. We both know that you are Aidan’s good-luck charm.”
The admission from her makes me physically pause. Am I?
“I just wanted to go over the company details with you so you can be briefed before we talk to a potential partner for ourcompany. Mr. Carlson is all about being family-oriented. So we’ve got to stick together.”
She displays a softened smile before taking a sip of the tea in front of her.
The Whitmores use “partner,” but the real definition of what they do is buy a company to liquidate all its assets and take it apart like a bunch of car parts. Another notch on their belt loop. A routine I’ve seen time and time again.
“Don’t fill up too much, dear. We have lobster rolls for lunch.”
I take a mini bite before putting the remaining part of the sandwich on the napkin in front of me, wiping the corners of my mouth with my cloth napkin before smiling back at her.
“Did you get a good dress for the occasion?”
“Yes, did you want to see it?”
