“It was probably expected of you. Maybe even encouraged, right? By your grandfather?”
I nod. “Yes. The Winter Corporation did well under my father. It didn’t grow, but it didn’t falter, either. But I have always wanted to expand it.”
“Where does that come from, for you? The desire to… to…”
“To be the best?”
“Yes,” she says, nodding. “And to want to make things around you better.”
“It’s always been there,” I say, but then I frown, and consider it. “There’s also an aspect of supporting the family, I suppose.”
“Supporting?”
I look at her across the table. Interested, intelligent, and eyes like crystals. And I say things I know I shouldn’t. “The entire family draws an income from the company.”
“Oh,” she says. “I see.”
“It’s minuscule in comparison to the overall profits, of course. Basically just dividends on the shares. But it’s substantial for the family. My great-uncle, my cousins, the extended family.” I sigh. “They’re all invested in the future of the company. If it were to fail, if we had to close shop, every single one of them would see it as a failure.”
“But none of them want to help keep it running?”
I nod, my hand tight around my wineglass. “No, they’ve all made that very clear. At this point I don’t know if I’d even trust anyone else with it. It’s my family’s legacy, and it was my grandfather’s wish that it stays in the family…” I shake my head. “I just can’t see it fail.”
“I see,” she murmurs, and it’s clear in her eyes that she does. “It’s your cross to carry.”
For life,I think, and feel the familiar weight of that responsibility, the knowledge I’ve lived with since I was a teenager. It’s been a long time since I resented it. But I resent it now, sitting across from a woman who has sworn off Upper East Side men and the superficiality of the world we come from. It’s a world I can disdain, but never leave.
I clear my throat. “Anyway,” I say. “Don’t feel any pressure for the pitch.”
She laughs. “Oh, of course not! After hearing how you’d give your life rather than seeing it fail?”
I grin. “Yes. I’ll be honest, but fair.”
“Oh, I know you well enough to know that, too,” she says, and stretches her legs out beneath the table. Her ankle brushes mine. “Can I ask you a really intrusive question?”
“I’m intrigued now.”
“I think it’s finally time for you to tell me about your previous relationship.”
I close my eyes. “So disappointed.”
She laughs again, and nudges my leg beneath the table. “That was an easy one! Get me another drink and I can switch to proper intrusive ones.”
“Oh? Now that’s a game I can play.”
“Later,” she says. “Now tell me.”
“What do you want to know about it?”
“How long had you been dating before it ended?”
“Three years,” I say. “Engaged for one.”
She nods, and tilts her head. “Why did your brother invite her parents? I’ve been trying to understand that, but it just seems so rude to me. Against you, I mean.”
I shift my thumb so it rests against her palm. Of course she’s curious. There’s no pain talking about Cordelia, no regrets, so I give her what she wants. “I told you that her parents build golf courses.”
Sophia’s eyebrows rise.“Oh, that’s right.”