Reed’s eyes twinkled in appreciation of a good story. “I gather that wasn’t the case?”
“Definitely not.”
“Did your grandparents object?”
“Quite the contrary. Grandpa Cecil was really impressed with what Dad had made of his company. And there was apparently a betting pool on which port they’d end up eloping in. Gran would’ve won, but Dad decided to be old-fashioned and asked Grandpa for Mom’s hand. So they got married in a beach wedding when they got back to The Hamptons. It was quite the scandal, them being engaged after nine weeks, married in thirteen.”
“Wow, that’s fast.”
She shrugged. “When you know, you know. I’ve always been kind of jealous of that. The society set assumed Mom was pregnant. Everybody who hadn’t spent the summer watching them together gave the whole thing six months, a year, tops, before everything blew up. That was thirty years ago.”
Cecily sat back, sipping more tea as their waitress returned with the food. “This looks amazing.” She forked up a bite of the squash casserole Norah so prized and moaned in pleasure. “Okay, I concede. It’s as good as Norah said it would be.”
“So how did little Cecily fare as the child of two worlds?”
“We’ll fast forward through the childhood and teenage years for now and just say that I grew up a happy kid, with a great family that gave me a unique perspective on people, and parents who believe in the value of hard work.”
“Clearly that was a lesson you took to heart. I haven’t known many people with your work ethic.”
Cecily shrugged. “If you have a skill or a gift, you use it. No one on either side of my family just sits around on their laurels.”
“That’s consistent with everything I remember hearing about them over the years. But none of that explains why you’re so intent on hiding it. You’re not ashamed of them. I can hear how much you love them in the tone of your voice.”
“You’re right. I adore my family. But the Davenport name comes with a lot of public expectation, some merited, some not. I did my undergrad at Brown. My grandmother was an alumna there, so everybody knew who I was. And I lost track of how many people befriended or tried to date me in an attempt to access to the family fortune or reputation or political clout. I learned fast that people were a lot more interested in how they could use me and my connections than in actually developing a relationship with me.”
Reed frowned. “I’m sensing a very painful life lesson here.”
He’d shared his disastrous ex story with her. Time for a little quid pro quo. “Jefferson was a master’s student in Public Policy.”
Reed made a face. “Jefferson?”
“Jefferson Carlyle Petrie, III. And yes, he’s every bit like he sounds. Old money New England, with history that can be traced back to the Mayflower.”
“And you dated this guy?”
“You aren’t the only one with questionable taste in significant others in college. We met spring semester my sophomore year. He was on a committee with me for a big charity fundraiser. He was charming, cultured, erudite, and he put all of his considerable skill into wooing me. I fell hard and fast.” She’d gotten past beating herself up for that. Mostly.
“We were really well-suited. He was charitably-minded, as I am. Interested in improving things from a policy and systemic level.”
“Meaning he was politically-minded,” Reed concluded.
“Yes. And because of my background, I’d been groomed to be the perfect political partner. We had big dreams about how we’d change the world.” Cecily still ached a little at the loss of those dreams.
“We started by founding a charity for disabled veterans, bridging the gap between what the VA provides and what’s actually needed. Physical therapy, better prosthetics, other forms of continuing care for those not located near a VA hospital. I funded the start up and set up the initial marketing push to bring in additional donations, but I was still in school, so I left a lot of the running of it to the board, which really meant Jefferson, since he was the chair. He was running for state representative at the time, and the public just ate it up that he was taking time out from the political trail to take care of disabled veterans. The fact that he was linked with me and my family just added further legitimacy to his campaign.”
“I feel like this is heading toward a very predictable, very messy end.”
“I didn’t predict it. I didn’t have a friggin’ clue.” Her hand fisted around the fork at the memory. She forced it to relax. “A reporter from the Providence Journal asked for a meeting with me about The Hero’s Help Alliance. Since I did a lot of the marketing, that wasn’t an unusual thing. But when I showed up for the meeting, I faced a roomful of people who’d applied for the program. Despite the fact that they’d all been approved, they’d seen nothing.
“The reporter could’ve raked me over the coals, dragged my reputation through the muck, but he’d done his homework about my family and thought it highly unlikely I knew anything untoward was going on. So he helped me set up a sting instead. And we found out that Jefferson had embezzled over eighty percent of the charity’s funds, funneling it into his political campaign, and tying up the rest in a messy financial knot that made it hard to immediately track.”
They’d also found out that, in typical politician fashion, he’d had a woman on the side. But that wasn’t germane to this discussion.
“Please tell me he’s rotting in a cell.”
“Oh no. Old money, remember. Top notch lawyers. But my family made certain that any future political aspirations he may have will be dead in the water. And then we made good on all the applicants who’d been shafted by Jefferson’s embezzlement. After which, we elected an entirely new board, established oversight by some other people my family trusts, and I stepped out of the charity entirel
y.”