“You must lock the Eileen arrangement down before she comes to her senses.” Mom set her chopsticks on their stand, spine straight like a sentinel’s. “Your days of sneaking around with the staff should be over. You’re thirty-three now.”
Celeste Ayi scooped a dumpling into her mouth, eyes cutting from my face to Mom’s. “Who told you they’re sneaking around? That embrace was practically projected in IMAX.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” Mom snapped up the napkin from her lap, bringing its edge to the corner of her mouth to wipe an invisible stain. “My son knows better than to break my heart this way. An ambitionless woman is not a logical choice as a wife. Far too dangerous.”
I picked up a cucumber slice and shoved it into my mouth, chewing. Mom peeked my way, waiting for confirmation.
When it didn’t come, she continued, “He knows his Dad wouldn’t have approved of her, either. Which he cares about deeply, since Lao Bo is no longer here to voice his opinions.”
She said that often, and it drove me mad.
Especially because sometimes, I wished it were me who died.
I reached for my wine. “I am well aware, Mom.”
“And since when do you drink wine at lunch?” Ayi drew a hand to her chest. “We could’ve done so many happy hours together.”
She didn’t need my company.
She had more friends than a person should have, most of them she’d acquired after single-handedly sponsoring a local pride parade two decades ago. She’d just arrived in the States, hadn’t gotten used to acronyms, and had mistaken LGBT for Let’s Get Boba Tea.
The rest was history.
Mom ignored her sister. “Is there a problem I should know about?”
“I think there is a problem.” Ayi produced a pocket mirror from her purse and checked her makeup, even though it was only the three of us. “The problem is, he finds Eileen just a little less attractive than a bathroom carpet. And I’m not even talking about the fuzzy kind.”
“That’s not true.” Mom slapped the napkin back onto her lap. She never slapped things. “He adores her, and she’s stunning.” She turned her head to me. “Isn’t she, Zachary?”
“She looks fine.” I swirled the wine in my glass, dissatisfied that my mother was, in fact, right.
Pragmatically speaking, there was no reason for me to delay the inevitable. I’d made an arrangement with Eileen. She’d since written to me numerous times in emails, even texted.
She expected me to take it to the next step.
Why shouldn’t she? We had a deal.
She was going to give me heirs. Stability. Peace of mind from my mother.
And most importantly, help me fulfill my promise to Dad.
Mom pushed her plate away, losing patience. “Zachary, are you even listening?”
I snapped out of my reverie, setting my wine glass down. “Always.”
She stood, her plate still full, her tea untouched.
“Wrap this thing up with Eileen Yang.” She slung her bag over her shoulder. “She’s a good girl. Don’t you dare tarnish her reputation.”
Mom stormed out, leaving me with my oblivious aunt.
“Are you going to eat that skewer?” Ayi pointed at my plate with her chopsticks. “I’m on a carb-less diet these days.”
She’d just had a dumpling, but the last thing I wanted was to engage in a conversation with her.
“Sure.” I stood, buttoning my blazer. “Go ahead.”
At three-thirty, I strolled into one of my conference rooms. I’d scheduled the meeting a half hour before I asked Farrow to show up on purpose.
I didn’t want her to see this next part.
The minute I entered, everybody rose from their seats. Two estate and trust litigators—Dan Harlow and Bryan Di Pietro, the best in the area. My own lawyer on retainer—Deanne Tibon. And a private investigator—Tom Coates.
They sat in a row on one side of the oval table.
I unbuttoned my blazer and claimed the head seat without shaking anyone’s hand. Farrow aside, I still found most humans distasteful.
“So?” Bryan peered around the room, frowning. “What was so serious that you made us come together as a force?”
“And made me cut my vacation in Barbados short.” Deanne reclined in her chair, rolling her neck. She was in her mid-sixties and dying to retire. In fact, I was the only client she’d kept. “Are you finally taking over Walmart?”
“Not quite.” But also not out of the question. I laced my fingers together. “I have a task for you. Failure is not an option.” I stared them down, taking my time. “No dime will be spared, no stone left unturned. By all means necessary, the four of you will win this case or face banishment from your industry of expertise.”
Tom whistled. “Strong words.”
Deanne knotted her arms over her chest. “Not for me. I want to retire.”
“What is it, then?” Bryan unclipped his briefcase, fishing out a notepad. “What do you want us to do?”
I pressed a button on the intercom, summoning Natalie, who dished out pre-prepared folders. “I want you to drop everything you’re working on and focus on this task.”
If they ruined this, I’d ruin them.
Simple as that.
