Grace choked on the fish. Coughing, she fumbled to get a napkin to her mouth.
Her mother didn't miss a beat. "Your one-year anniversary is coming. It's time, don't you think? Your father missed the opportunity of knowing his grandchildren. I don't want the same thing happening to me."
Grace took a sip of water. And another one. "I'm busy with the Foundation right now. I can't—"
An impatient hand waved away her words. "Let Lamont run the place. That's what your father really wanted."
Grace's eyes flared. Slowly, she put her glass down. "What did you say?"
"You can't honestly think he'd want you cooped up in that dreary office all the time. That's why he cultivated Lamont. Besides, what could you possibly know about running the Foundation? I was talking to Charles Bainbridge the other day, pointing out to him that you were really under too much stress. You need to be taking care of Ranulf right now, not worrying about business. Charles agreed."
Grace felt the blood drain from her face. Bainbridge was the chair of the board and the leader of the men who were rallied against her.
Her mother looked concerned. "Darling, you're not eating. Is the fish not to your liking? I'll summon Edward."
As her mother began to lift her hand, Grace rushed in, "No, no, the salmon is fine."
In the silence which followed, she tried to get her temper under control.
"Mummy, how could you do that?" she said quietly.
Her mother looked up in surprise. "I beg your pardon?"
"How could you undermine me like that? "
"Good Lord, are you talking about Bainbridge? I did you a favor. You really can't handle the responsibility—"
"I will be the one to decide that."
Carolina Hall froze. As her mother's expression turned icy, Grace fought against being submerged in her mother's censure.
"I find that comment and your attitude most ungracious."
Grace took a deep breath.
"I'm sorry, Mummy. But I know I can be what the Foundation needs and I want a chance to prove it. You going behind my back to Bainbridge is not helping me accomplish my goals." As her mother stared hard at her, she played her only strong card. "Besides, do you really want someone other than a Hall running the Foundation?"
That got through to Carolina. Slowly, the thaw came.
"You and your father were always alike. Once he got it into his head he was going to do something, nothing could sway him. I still believe, however, your focus should be on Ranulf and the family you will have with him. That's how I was with your father and look at how successful our marriage was. Don't you want that kind of accomplishment?"
As if marriage was a game to be won, a playing field on which to triumph over others.
All things being equal, Grace thought, she'd rather have a good partnership than something worthy of a social trophy.
She made an effort to change the subject. "Mummy, did you know we're going to do a tribute to Father at the Gala this year?"
"Ah, lovely. You know, your father started the tradition of the Gala."
"I know." Grace kept most of the exhaustion out of her voice.
"It was in 1962 that he first came up with the idea. We had the first one in our own home..."
When their plates were cleared, the waiter asked if they would like dessert.
"None for us," her mother answered. "Just coffee. Black."
Grace was wishing they could have skipped the coffee when her mother said, "You don't look well."
"I don't?" She picked up her water glass again and rationed what she drank. She wanted to save the last inch or so in case her mother dropped another bomb and got her choking again.
"No. And you've seemed very distracted tonight. You haven't been sleeping, have you?"
"I've been busy."
"Do you grieve for your father?"
The words were so quiet, Grace almost didn't hear them. She looked up in surprise.
"Yes, I do. I miss him tremendously."
The coffee came with the check. Carolina carefully drew her signature on the bottom followed by WH 1. She lingered with the pen in her hand, staring down at the slip of paper. Her eyes drifted upward, coming to rest on the candle that burned on the table between them.
"You and he were always so close. You worshiped him. I can remember, when you were a little girl, I found you in his closet once. He'd been gone for a week or two on business. You'd gotten into his clothes, had put yourself into one of his suits. You had a necktie around your neck that almost reached the ground. You must have been five or six."
Grace smiled sadly. "I remember that. You were furious because I wasn't allowed in your bedrooms."
"Was I? I don't recall. What I remember was your explanation. You told me that because he was gone, you needed to do his job for him, but you didn't have anything suitable to wear. It was really quite charming."