“No. I’m fine.”
Justin led me across the waiting room to Caroline’s office. The rugs were burgundy Turkish silk. There were leather couches and chairs for people to wait in. He led me right past them to the double wooden doors with beautiful lion’s head doorknobs in the middle of them. There was another door leading off from this room. An office for one of her children, I imagined. Which one of them had the honor of sharing space with her I didn’t know.
“Mrs. Constantine said you should wait in here,” Justin said and opened the door to Caroline’s inner sanctum.
I sat and waited to see what was in store for me now. Waiting, always waiting to see what was going to happen to me next.
“Did anyone offer you a drink?” Caroline said as she swept in.
I jumped. “Everyone,” I said. “You have very thorough staff.”
“Well, don’t let them know that or I might have to give them a raise. Now,” Caroline sat down on her side of the desk and shot me a level look. “How are you doing?”
“Good!” I said, too brightly. “Fine. I’m fine.”
“Zilla headed home?”
How did she know that?
“Yesterday. And, before you ask, I’m fine with it.”
Caroline gave me a long look that seemed doubtful. And I felt a strange and sudden spark of anger. I’d been watched for months now. Years. I didn’t like it. Never liked it.
“You summoned me,” I said. “Why am I here, Caroline?”
Caroline blinked at my tone and then flipped open a file.
“We’re doing a charity fundraiser in two weeks, and we’re going to give a posthumous award to the senator,” Caroline said.
“All right,” I said. Those sorts of things happened all the time. In Jim’s office were stacks of framed letters and plaques from different charities honoring him as some kind of hero. “What do you need me for?”
“We need you there so we can present you with the award.”
I started to shake my head. No. Nope. I didn’t need to do that anymore. Jim was gone. My life as the smiling clapping wife in Vera Wang was over. I wasn’t sure what was going to happen next, but it wasn’t going to be that anymore.
“It’s been months,” Caroline said.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“You are the face of his legacy. He had business ventures and legal obligations, and they’re yours now.”
“No.” I shook my head again. “They’re not. I’m his widow. That’s all.”
She tilted her head, and I sighed, sensing what was coming. “What do you want, Poppy?”
A hot dog. I just want a hot dog.
“Not... business ventures and legal obligations,” I said. I didn’t want to be the face of his legacy. I wanted a million miles between myself and him. I was going to change my name back to my maiden name. Dye my hair.
“What about the foundation?” She lifted her eyebrows, and I felt a tug. Old dreams that had been squished and pushed aside and forgotten. But I had no idea if I wanted those dreams anymore. I’d been so young. Twenty years old, fresh-faced and convinced I could help. Fresh-faced and hopeful.
God, I’d been so hopeful. The kind of hopeful that was just hollow now.
“There will be press at the fundraiser. It will be good for our company and good for the senator’s foundation... which, I will remind you, is yours now. And you can do what you want with it. But the fundraiser will give you options. And I would think... options might appeal to you.”
I stiffened, unable to look at her, but terribly aware of her looking at me. Was she saying the thing we never said? That I want options now because the senator stripped me of them?
Was she pitying me? Manipulating me?