She chuckles. “I love both you and Susan equally,” she says loyally. “Of course I’ll vote in your favor. But it would look better if you have the rest of the board on your side as well.”
“I’m working on it,” I tell her. “Half the board are granddad’s old golf buddies, and they are ready to believe that I’m letting down the good name of the Hartmans.”
“Yes,” she says dryly. “I’ve heard a few of their grumblings. ‘It’s the mother,’ Alison Strauss said once when she was talking about you. ‘You can tell by the breeding.’”
“Alison Strauss is a miserable old hag,” I tell her. “You aren’t bothered by her, are you?”
She shakes her head. “No, Danny, how could I be? This has been my reality for the last thirty seven years.” She looks sad. “When your dad was alive, the two of us could laugh about it. But Graham’s family thinks I’m from the wrong side of the tracks too. It just gets old, that’s all.”
I can’t imagine Graham in this place, but I can absolutely see both Bailey and Sebastian here. Sebastian will want to say hello to the chef. Bailey will order every single thing on the menu, because she likes variety. They’d both fit in perfectly, because they both have a certain kindness and grace and an innate desire to make everyone around them feel comfortable.
The realization strikes me out of the blue. I’m starting to fall in love with Bailey Moore. For the first time, I can see the glimmerings of a future that involves something other than running the family firm. I don’t know her very well, and we haven’t spent a lot of time together, but sometimes, you just know.
“Hey mom,” I say. “You know our Sunday family lunches?”
She raises an eyebrow.
“In a few weeks, once this stupid Kansas City deal is over, I’m bringing Bailey and Sebastian to it.”
Sebastian has come to lunch many times, he won’t be a new addition to the gathering. But she hears the emphasis I’ve placed on the words Bailey and Sebastian, and her eyes widen as she processes what I’ve left unsaid. You have to hand it to my mother. She’s not slow on the uptake.
I realize I’m holding my breath as I wait for her to react, but I shouldn’t have been nervous. She starts chuckling, then, unable to contain her mirth, her chuckles turn to helpless laughter. “Oh dear,” she says, wiping the tears away from her eyes, “The expression on Graham’s face is going to be priceless.” Her hand rests on top of mine. “I cannot wait.”
29
Whoever receives friends and does not participate in the preparation of their meal does not deserve to have friends.
Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin
Sebastian:
The next two weeks are idyllic.
Juliette’s off my back for the time being, since her investment consortium still hasn’t provided me with the numbers I’m looking for. “I’m following up all the time,” she assures me. I nod, secretly grateful that her relentless focus is being turned to someone else.
At the restaurants, Ben seems to have settled down, and Helen reports that she’s whipping the line cooks into shape at Seb II. Our Yelp reviewers seem largely positive, and night after night, our tables are fully booked. The second Michelin star is doing wonders for our bottom line.
“I’m making you richer,” I quip to Daniel as we watch Bailey play pool on Wednesday night. In a few short weeks, her improvement has been amazing. Today, she’s circling the table, her movements confident, looking for her next shot. Such a difference from the timid mouse who was afraid of her breasts grazing the table. Fuck me, those gorgeous tits are a weapon. The poor guy playing opposite her can’t keep his eyes away from them.
Bailey walks over to us, interrupting my dark thoughts about her opponent’s eyes and where he can put them. “Which ball should I aim for?” She frowns. “I don’t want him to run the table if I miss.”
Per pool league rules, Bailey can use two ‘advice’ breaks. Daniel’s paying more attention to the game, so he responds. “Try for the green,” he says. “Even if you miss, the cue ball is going to be in a terrible position for his follow-up shot, and you’ll get another go.”