Authors: Vanessa Fewings
“Mia should have woken me,” I said by way of apology.
“Nonsense,” said Mom. “Mia explained you’d spent the early hours at the hospital. We’re glad you caught up on your sleep.”
“What happened to you?” Dad rose to greet me.
“It’s nothing,” I said, circling the table to kiss my mom on the cheek.
“Doesn’t look like nothing,” he said.
“Can I get you anything?” I patted his back affectionately when he hugged me.
I was almost thrown by the way his hold lingered.
He gestured to the table. “We have everything we need.”
Mia had placed a silver tray on the table and on it sat a tea urn. Another tray held a porcelain plate laden with croissants. China plates rested on each placemat with merely croissant crumbs as evidence of a breakfast enjoyed. Mia’s remained uneaten. There was even a butter dish and the appropriate knives.
“This looks nice,” I said, winking at Mia.
She bustled with pride. “Have one.”
“I think I will.” I set my mug down, feeling like a heathen for bringing it, and pulled up a chair. “So how have you been?” I buttered a croissant, my mouth watering in anticipation.
“Quite fine, dear,” said Mom.
Mia poured a cup of tea into a ridiculously small teacup and handed it to me.
“Thank you.” I added milk.
I took a bite out of my croissant. The freshly baked pastry tasted delicious. I gave a grateful nod to Mia and pointed to hers. “Eat, Mia.”
She followed my lead, mirroring the way I buttered mine. The poor thing must have been starving. She rested her butter knife on the table and that look of disapproval from my mother made Mia place the knife back on her plate.
The tediousness of etiquette
, I mused.
“What happened to your staff?” asked Mom.
“Gave them the day off.”
She looked surprised. “You do that every weekend?”
“Pretty much, yes. How’s the business?”
“Just wonderful,” said Dad. “How’s work?”
“Good and everything else too.” I grinned over at Mia. “Quite perfect.”
Dad arched a brow.
I took another sip of tea. “You moved your visit up?”
“Scheduling issues,” he said. “Have a shareholder meeting tomorrow to discuss the advertising campaign.” He went on to explain the specifics.
This was a man who ruled an empire with laser sharp perception and the fierceness of a successful CEO. He thought nothing of making the difficult decisions that had established Cole Tea as a leader in the beverage market. He was a visionary, taking one of the most traded agricultural commodities in the world and ensuring the Cole name remained one of the most popular brands.
We’d always been honest with each other, and now seemed like a good time to broach a sensitive subject. “Our latest commercial, Dad.”
“What of it?”
“It’s a little…shiny.” I raised my hand in explanation. “Not sure it best reflects Cole Tea.”
“I’m reassured by my team this current campaign perfectly reflects society.”
“But do we want that?” I said. “Our branding has always been about sophistication. The client treating themselves to a luxury brand, and our price point—”
“Thought you had no interest in the business?” he said.
“You asked for my opinion on the commercial.”
“Manhattan’s Elite doesn’t come cheap,” he said. “They’ve made Bumble Soda a number one selling brand.”
I forced a smile. “Whatever you think’s best.”
He looked defeated. “What can I tell you? I must trust my staff.”
“Henry’s looking forward to seeing you,” I said.
Mom scoffed. “Not trying to get rid of us so soon?”
“We can invite him here.”
“We’re having dinner at the Ivy,” said Dad.
“Mia and I are joining you.” And on Mom’s strained expression, I said, “We’re not?”
“We want to discuss the business with him,” said Dad. “You don’t mind, do you?”
“Of course not,” I said. “I imagine you have lots to talk about.”
“And we know your thoughts on the subject,” said Mom.
“I have other talents.”
“He’s an amazing doctor,” said Mia.
Dad shifted toward me. “I’m glad he’s out of Big Bear. Too much time to think.”
“Cameron took him surfing yesterday,” Mia said. “Henry had such a good time.”
“Willow’s through to the Pan American,” said Mom.
“Show jumping,” I told Mia. “My little sister loves horses.” I reached for her hand and kissed her wrist.
Mia smiled coyly at my show of affection, blushing brightly.
“Aunt Rose sends her love.” Mom jarringly changed the subject.
“Send our love to her,” I said. “Rose is very fond of Mia.”
“Son, when are you coming to see us?” She gave a knowing look. “We can invite the Taylors and their daughter, Maddie. You remember Maddie, don’t you? She’s at Stanford now.”
“Mia, would you mind bringing us some more tea?” I said.
She pushed herself to her feet and lifted the tray with the silver urn.
In any other circumstance, I would have carried it for her. Mia walked away with the tray and I hated sensing their snobbery had hit its mark. I waited until she was out of earshot.
“Please be more respectful to Mia,” I said firmly.
Mom gave a disapproving shake of her head and her lips pressed together, revealing there were words she knew not to say.
I didn’t care for the superficiality of a world I’d never felt part of. Yes, I attended society events like the Dubai World Cup at the Meydon, or the Monaco Grand Prix, and loved attending polo matches, but for the sport, not to enter into a tedious conversation with a debutant looking to catch a husband. I didn’t want that kind of woman.
My back stiffened. “Look, I care for Mia deeply. She’s very special to me. And she’s been through a dreadful ordeal. What she needs now is kindness.”
“Ordeal?” said Dad.
“After Mia survived her mother’s death, she came here to live with her father and his actions left her devastated. He betrayed her dreadfully.”
Dad narrowed his gaze. “God, he didn’t—”
“No, Dad,” I snapped.
“How did her mother die?” asked Mom.
“Tragically,” I said. “I have only one rule in this house, and that is we respect each other.”
“You always did try to save wounded animals,” she said. “Remember that dying bird you found in the garden? You tried to save it and your father had to sneak it off and snap its neck.”
I feigned horror. “All this time I believed you’d sent that sparrow back to join the flock.” Didn’t share with them I’d watched my father do the deed. I’d been five at the time and clearly remembered it because one week later I’d been packed off to boarding school with a suitcase full of stiff uniforms, along with the kind of nightmares that followed me all the way to Harvard.
Mia wasn’t that far away yet I missed her.
“I love her,” I confessed.
“She’s very pretty,” said Dad. “A phase?”
I gave a look of annoyance.
“You’re not really engaged?” asked Mom.
“You know the press,” I said.
She flinched. “Press?”
“Tabloids,” I clarified. “Don’t worry Mom. Nothing’s in Harper’s Bazaar yet.”
“Airtight prenup,” said Dad.
“They’re not getting married.” Her high-pitch scraped my nerves. “Cameron just reassured us.”
My headache was back.
“Altercation?” asked Dad.
I caressed my lip. “A misunderstanding.”
“Please tell me it wasn’t caught on camera.”
“I don’t believe so.”
He gave that look of disappointment I knew so well.
“Here she is,” said Mom, smiling convincingly at Mia.
The hairs on my nape prickled, fearing Mia might have overheard them.
“Would you like another croissant?” she asked. “I can make some more.”
“We’re fine,” I said, rising to take the tray from her. “Thank you, Mia.”
I waited until she sat and pushed her chair forward. I planted a kiss on her cheek and gave her shoulder an affectionate squeeze.
Returning to my seat, I led the conversation to my father’s favorite subject, Cole Tea. Before long he’d relaxed again, and Mom even showed signs of enjoying him regale his latest business adventures. No doubt her brain was running through the subject of gene pools and breeding. An ideation close to her heart.
Dad reached down beneath the table and lifted a long cream colored scroll. Mom rose to clear the plates aside and Mia helped her.
These were the architectural schematics of a building. I leaned forward, my interest piqued by the elaborate design—a breathtaking crisscross of black glass showcased in a contemporary style. The vision of a sweeping skyscraper.
“Impressive, Dad. Where’s this going?”
His eyes crinkled with excitement. “Here.”
“Los Angeles?” I said.
Mia shot me a wary look.
“Construction is well underway,” he said.
“It will create thousands of jobs,” said Mom.
“The tallest building on the downtown skyline,” added Dad.
My gaze rose to meet his and that familiar sense of doom came crashing back.
His fingertip trailed over the paper. “The view from the west will have fabulous sunsets.”
I sat back, trying and failing to find the words to provide reason, to decline.
“You’re looking at C. R. Cole Tower,” he said proudly.
Mia took my hand and said wistfully, “Cameron, it’s named after you.”
CHAPTER 16
WELL THAT WAS pleasant.
It reminded me of the time I’d been plucked out of boarding school at age twelve one late summer afternoon and taken on a trip to South Africa by my parents. The visit became tainted when I strayed too far from the jeep and had the unsettling experience of being charged by a rhino. The animal’s shortsightedness had saved the day.
With a forced grin and a wave goodbye, I watched my parents drive away in their chauffeured Bentley Continental. Mom seemed happy enough, and I’d managed to reassure Dad I’d give his offer serious consideration.
Stalling had become its own art form.
I locked the door and turned to rest my back against it, gathering what was left of my will to live.
A new vision promised to haunt my days. That architectural design was a threat in waiting. The building destined to tower above L.A.’s skyline would serve as a symbol of my Dad’s disapproval.
I went in search of Mia.
Perhaps it was time to throw myself onto my sword and resign to the inevitable challenge of joining the family business. Resisting this centrifugal force pulling me apart felt futile and was doing crazy things to my head. My subconscious evoked the kind of nightmares that promised not to end unless I faced my fate. Every night, the same dream. Me, messing up one way or another, followed by an obvious wish fulfillment of needing to escape.
The level of interpretation that would make Freud proud: I’d lost a childhood to Cole Tea and was damned if I’d give that company my adult years as well.
I didn’t want to think about that slow death now.
I needed
her.
Needed to bask in her presence and breathe in her aura.
I knew my girl well.
Predictably, Mia was naked and swimming laps in the pool, cutting through the water with a determined pace. I glanced at the garden to make sure my parents hadn’t left something behind and wouldn’t return for it and catch my stunning Bohemian naked and strikingly rebellious.
Mia’s love of water held an easy interpretation. This represented freedom to her, the ability to defy gravity and lose herself. If I ever saw a string of daisies in her hair, I wouldn’t be surprised. There had to be hippy blood running through her veins.
I stood at the edge of the pool and called down to her. “They call it PTSD.”
Mia swam toward me and peered up. “They just want the best for you.”
“And what are you really thinking?” I said, amused.
“They don’t like me, do they?”
Clenching my fists, I tried to suppress this building rage that my parents had hurt Mia. “They’re old fashioned,” I snapped. “Amongst other things.”
“They don’t approve of me,” she said. “Do you think it was my tattoo?”
I knelt and reached out to run my fingers through her hair. “It’s because you’re wild, and beautiful, and untamable, and all that’s wrong with this world is reflected in your profoundness.”
Her eyes widened in wonder.
I rose to my feet and slipped off my tie, quickly unbuttoning my shirt. Undressed now, I dived in, swallowed up by the silence of the depth, swimming the full length until I reached her. Rising out of the water, I rested my back against the edge of the pool.