M. Winters
Vogue
Editor in Chief
* * *
“Whatever it is,” I said, looking between them, “it’ll have to wait. I’m already behind on my work and I don’t have time.”
“This can’t wait, and it’ll only take fifteen minutes.” My father ushered me back onto the elevator, hitting the button for the closest lounge.
I refused to make eye contact with him or my aunt, and I set a timer for fifteen minutes on my phone.
The second the elevator stopped, they motioned for me to follow them to a booth near the windows.
I sat on one side of the table, and they sat side by side on the other. Then we just stared at each other, like usual.
My father and I had never been that close. He was a wealthier version of a deadbeat dad as far as I was concerned and I didn’t want anything to do with him or his money.
My mother had left him once she discovered he had twelve ongoing affairs, and I took her side in the split. He fought her tooth and nail on child support—neglected to see me unless it was my birthday, and he paid the socialite press to steer clear of me once I shunned my status and decided to live a normal life to work for my own money.
It wasn’t until a few years ago, when one lone photographer caught me stepping out of a shitty brownstone, that my father swooped in and demanded that I move into a twenty-million-dollar condo at his expense. He’d been ensuring that we see each other at least one a month since. Always in public.
Of course, that’s what this is…Our monthly public meeting. How could I forget? Allow me to put on a fake smile, just in case he’s hired some press to snap pictures of this.
“Well, I guess I’ll be the first person to break the ice,” My father said after another minute of awkward silence. “I have some important news for you, Meredith. But first, I want us to find a way to get past our differences. I’m well aware that I haven’t been there for you as much as I should’ve and believe me, I regret that. If I could do it all over again, I would’ve begged for your mother to stay. I would’ve worked hard to make her my only one.”
My fake smile started to slip. Even if the first part of his words were halfway true, the latter ones couldn’t be. From the way my aunt gave him the side-eye when he said them, I knew a part of her didn’t believe that either.
“Now, I can’t go back in time and fix things,” he said. “but I think I can start right here and now. I want us to go into a new year stronger than we’ve ever been.”
I said nothing.
“Perhaps we can stop having public meetings and have some genuine ones with just you and me. You can finally introduce me to all your friends.”
“I only have one friend.”
“Gillian, right? Well, you can finally introduce me to her, and I can introduce you to the people in my life as well.” He looked somewhat genuine. “And perhaps, over time, we can have the type of relationship where we don’t have to worry about whether or not the stories we hear about each other are true.”
“There aren’t any stories about me.”
“Ha! Quite the contrary.” Aunt Catherine chimed in. “That’s part of the big reason why we really needed to talk to you today.”
“Just tell me the news so I can get back to work.” I rolled my eyes. “If you’ve bought another million-dollar building, congratulations. If you’re partnering with Catherine’s media firm, congratulations. All bases are covered. Can I go now?”
“Your father is dipping his toe into politics.” She smiled. “He’s highly qualified for tons of positions, but after tons of research, he’s decided to help people who—”
I stopped listening, waited for her to finish babbling about whatever unnecessary position he was taking away from someone who would probably do a better job at it.
I wasn’t wasting a ‘Congratulations’ on this.
“We also need you to lead your father’s annual women’s conference, so that people will see that you’re spending more time together,” she said. “People like to see that quality in high profile men like him.”
I knew there was a catch… “You’re already a multi-million-dollar philanthropist, Dad.” I said, looking at him. “Shouldn’t that be enough at this point in your life?”
“I’ll be able to answer that after I win.” He laughed as my aunt kissed his cheek, and I felt bile rising up my throat.
“Anyway…” Catherine set a folder on the table. “Back to you. I had your father’s team do some digging, and I’m not sure I like what they’ve found.” She lowered her voice. “We’ll need to discuss all of the men that you slept with in the years before your mother—Well, you know. They tell me that you were quite promiscuous…”