Memories of Santorini, page 5
“She never told your dad that she didn’t want you in the wedding.” Bron leaned in close. “And she doesn’t want me to rescind the invitation.” She touched Sienna’s hand. “She wants us to be friends. And she doesn’t think you’re choosing sides.”
“You have to understand my mother,” Sienna started to explain.
Bron rushed on, not letting her finish. “That’s what your dad always says, that she tells one thing to one person and another to someone else. I get that,” she said in an airy voice. “And that’s why I asked your dad about it too.”
Shock coursed through Sienna’s body. “What did he say?”
Bron sighed. “That he knows what she’s like, and he was making a preemptive strike. He was afraid she’d do something after we’d made all our plans when it would be so much harder to change everything.”
Sienna heard only one thing. “Are you saying my dad never talked to my mom? That he lied?”
Bron shook her head, her hair flying. “No, no, no. He didn’t lie.” She stressed the word. “He just…” She seemed to search for a more pleasant term. “He fabricated a story that was supposed to save us all in the end.”
“Isn’t fabricating,” Sienna said with deliberateness, “another word for lying?”
Bron shook her head again, then tucked her hair behind her ear. “It’s like little white lies that you tell to save someone else’s feelings. Don’t tell me you’ve never told a little white lie?”
Of course she had. Everybody did. You wanted to stay in and binge the last season of Game of Thrones instead of attending a party, so you sighed woefully and said you’d already made another date.
Bron went on. “He did it to save me. Because he didn’t want me to be hurt if you couldn’t be in the wedding later on down the road.”
Sienna cut to the chase. “Why are you telling me this?” She raised a hand, fingers spread to wave away all the other crap.
“I want you in my wedding. So I told your father that your mom was fine with it.”
The shocks just kept coming. “You actually told him you talked to my mom behind his back?”
Nobody went behind her father’s back.
“He was a little upset.” Bron shrugged. “But then he finally understood how I felt, that it was like he was choosing his ex-wife’s feelings over mine.” She put her hand on Sienna’s. “Not that your mom’s feelings aren’t important. That’s why I talked to her, to make sure.” She leaned back in the booth and threw up her hands in a who-cares gesture. “It didn’t bother her.”
“What if my mother was the one telling the lie?” Sienna asked with all the bitterness she’d felt since she was eight years old.
Bron shook her head as if she didn’t hear Sienna’s tone. “I’m good at telling when people are lying, and she wasn’t. And your dad admitted to fabricating the story. So it’s all okay.”
She thought of what her father said when she confronted him about the birthday party, that it wasn’t Matthew who didn’t want Mother there, it was Bron who was uncomfortable. Was that yet another fabrication? Most likely. If Bron was really uncomfortable around Sienna’s mom, she would never have gone to see her. But even if Sienna mentioned it, Bron would probably write it off as inconsequential.
“Please tell me you’ll do it,” Bron begged. “It means a lot to me. I swear it’s not that I want everyone to think I’m besties with my future stepdaughter.” She put a hand to her chest in a solemn oath. “I’m not fabricating. I’m not telling a white lie. I want this or I wouldn’t have gone to your mother behind Donald’s back and risked his wrath.”
At least Bron knew there was a wrath.
Happy for the second chance, Sienna smiled. “All right, I’d love to be one of your bridesmaids.”
Bron’s squeal of delight echoed in the ultra-quiet restaurant. She threw her arms around Sienna, hugging her tight. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
Sienna didn’t doubt her sincerity one bit.
It was her father who gave her doubts.
6
Though Sienna could have confronted her father, she’d already done so over the other “fabrication” with Matthew and her party. Dad would just tell her he wanted peace in the family. She hadn’t called her mother either. Even Aunt Teresa wouldn’t know the full truth.
Bron had canceled the previous bridal appointment, and in the two weeks since their lunch, Sienna and the other girls—four bridesmaids in total—had chosen a sexy, strapless number that hugged the chest, then flared in pleats to the floor. It was usable for any fancy occasion, or she could have it hemmed later and turned into a cocktail dress.
She’d had another interview but decided the firm wasn’t right for her. Once Smithfield and Vine had turned her down, the best fit in the city of San Francisco was her father’s company, where she absolutely couldn’t go. She didn’t want to leave the city, but it was looking more and more like she’d have to go to San Jose. Or farther afield.
But she wouldn’t think about that on this gorgeous spring morning as she ran through the Presidio, then out along the water and down to Fort Mason. Being a Saturday, the path was awash in people walking their dogs, runners, speed walkers, leisurely strollers, parents with kids in tow, and dog walkers with six or seven leashed pets. She dodged through people as if they were an obstacle course, smiling at everyone, giving a low-waisted wave to other runners, a signal they were in the same class. She waved at an older man as he passed at a fast pace.
Then she heard her name. “Sienna Walker?”
She turned to see the man heading back, lifting his feet high to keep his heart rate up.
She recognized him then, Mr. Smithfield of Smithfield and Vine. He stuck out his hand, and she gave it an obligatory shake.
“How are you?” he asked, then added before she could answer, “I’ve seen you out here before. You keep a good pace.”
“Thank you.” Now that he’d said it, she remembered seeing him, though she hadn’t put it together when she’d interviewed. People were harder to place in their running gear.
“I’m really sorry the position with us didn’t work out for you.”
A surge of resentment welled up that he hadn’t given her the third interview. And she certainly hadn’t thought he’d had the nerve to bring it up. But she remained polite. Never burn a bridge by being bitchy. “So am I.”
He was still running in place, and she did too. “You really were the perfect candidate. I’m sure we hired someone with good potential, but I still believe you would have been a great asset to the team.”
She didn’t gape even though she wanted to. But since he’d mentioned it, she asked, “If I was so perfect, why did you cancel my third interview?” She punctuated with a shrug of her shoulders.
He stopped jogging then, cocked his head. “Quite frankly, it would have been a waste of time since you’d already decided my firm wasn’t for you.” There could have been a slight edge to his voice, but she didn’t know him well enough to say for sure. “Your father gave me to understand that you’d decided to work for him.”
She was floored, even worse than that lunch with Bron when she’d learned her father had lied about the bridesmaid thing. She blurted out, “I’m not going to work for my father. I want to make my own name.”
But if that was completely true, why had she asked her father to put in a good word with Mr. Smithfield? She couldn’t even remember how she’d justified that to herself.
“But your father said—” Mr. Smithfield cut off the sentence. “Ahh. You were using us to get him to make an offer.”
She couldn’t let Mr. Smithfield believe that of her. “I absolutely wouldn’t do that. Your firm is the best in the city, exactly where I wanted to be. I won’t work for my father because I don’t want anyone to think there’s nepotism going on.” Her shoulders rose defensively.
Mr. Smithfield regarded her a long moment from beneath bushy gray eyebrows. “Then I’m sorry you and your father got your wires crossed.” He started jogging in place again, getting ready to take off.
Sienna rushed to ask him, “When did my father call you?”
“The evening before your interview.” He put his fingers to his wrist. “My heart rate is off pace.”
“I’ll let you go. Thanks for stopping. I’m sorry about the misunderstanding.”
He took off, then turned, once more running in place. “If we have a new opening, I’d still like you back for that third interview. Now that I know we were your first choice.”
Then he turned and raced away, leaving Sienna mute and flabbergasted in his wake.
Sienna took two days to cool down before confronting her father. Then another two days to decide whether to go to his house, his office, or make a lunch date.
She opted for lunch and called him. “Lunch today? I’d like to talk about a job.”
“Absolutely, sweetheart.” The rare use of a term of endearment meant he was terribly pleased with himself.
She didn’t tell him which job. Maybe he thought his ruse had worked, and she’d decided he was the only game in town. Maybe that was his plan all along, to push her into a position where she’d be in his control.
Her father was always classy and distinguished, and today he wore a navy pinstripe suit with a silver tie and a pocket square.
Sienna slid into the circular booth. He’d suggested an exclusive restaurant atop one of the city’s leading business buildings. It wasn’t listed on any tourist sites, designed for the upper echelon of business people, the cream that rose to the top of San Francisco Bay Area elite. The waitstaff, male and female, were impeccably dressed in suit and tie. The tables were draped in damask, the flower arrangements fragrant and low-slung to afford conversation without obstruction.
She’d been here only once, when Matthew joined her father’s firm. Dad had invited her along for the lunch, flaunting the perks Matthew received and once again making her feel unwanted.
His smile was perfect, veneers he’d put on a year ago. Just after the divorce. As if he wanted to make sure the deduction didn’t go on their joint tax return.
Her skin was no longer livid with anger. She’d banked her rage. If she’d gone to him right after seeing Mr. Smithfield, she would have lost her cool and come out the loser.
“I’m so glad you called,” her father said, his voice amiable.
He hadn’t risen to kiss her cheek. They weren’t that kind of family, never had been. She hadn’t known her paternal grandparents well. They’d both died when she was young. But she had an impression of austere natures and the need to be quiet when she was around them. Her father, the only child of those somber people, was the least demonstrative man she knew, even with Bron, though he tolerated her touches and hugs and kisses. She wondered how long that would last after the wedding. Maybe he thought she’d be too busy with the new baby to care.
“Thank you for meeting me.” She kept her voice upbeat, not wanting to give him time to form a strategy to deal with her.
She ordered a champagne cocktail while her father liked Campari and soda. Maybe the bitterness agreed with him. And maybe that was her bitterness talking. They ordered when the drinks arrived, and her father continued when they were alone again.
“I know Brianna has asked you again to be in the wedding.” She hadn’t thought he’d address it, but she nodded for him to go on. “I’m sure it seems like I told a lie, but I didn’t want a big mess on our hands on the wedding day.” He reared back slightly to look down his nose. “You know how your mother can be.”
She couldn’t resist saying, “No, I don’t really know how my mother can be in this situation.”
He nodded, blinking a long moment, like an animal with double lids. “Let’s just say that she’s volatile and likes to play games. I wanted to avoid that. I hope you understand.”
Sienna smiled. “Oh, Dad,” she said in a gentle, almost playful tone. “I think you know how to play games better than anyone.”
He smiled with her. As if he had no clue what was going on in her head. Maybe she was that good an actress.
“I’m terribly sorry about the job as well.” He reached out, stopping a scant inch from where her hand was fisted on the table. “There’s always a place for you at Walker and Walker.”
She dipped her head so he couldn’t see her eyes. “If I came, would you change it to Walker, Walker, and Walker? Or Walker and Family? Or maybe just…” She trailed off, shrugged. “Maybe you want to keep Walker and Walker, the good old boys’ club.”
His smile faded over his pearly veneers. “There is no good old boys’ network at Walker and Walker. You should know that.”
“But there is a good old boys’ network between all the top financial firms in the city, isn’t there.” She said it flatly, turning it into a statement, not a question.
The hazel of his eyes steeled into something close to gray. “Of course. Isn’t that why you had me call Smithfield? To give you a leg up?”
“That’s exactly why I asked you to talk to him.” She smiled without a hint of her inner feelings, and it seemed to make him relax. “I’m sure Matthew told you they hired some nimrod he knew in university.”
He drummed his fingers on the table. “He couldn’t be a nimrod if Smithfield chose him over you. He must have had some redeeming qualities. Although I can’t understand what.” The veneers popped out again.
“Did you know that Mr. Smithfield likes to run along the marina down to Fort Mason?”
He stumbled at the abrupt change in topic, his mouth slightly ajar. “He’s quite trim, but I thought he was more a gym man.”
“Like you?”
He nodded, his eyes hooded as he tried to gauge where she was going. “And you’ll be free to use our gym anytime. We’ve also got a pool, a sauna, a whirlpool tub, and a masseuse on staff. All perks of being on the Walker and Walker team.”
She didn’t let the perks distract her. “I often like a run out to Fort Mason too.”
The drumming on the table stopped as he contemplated the implications. Their entrées arrived, and she smiled at the waiter as he set her lobster salad in front of her.
Her father had grilled salmon on a bed of steamed vegetables. At fifty-five, with a fiancée young enough to be his daughter, he was looking out for his weight. No more strictly meat and potatoes for him.
“How interesting,” he said without inflection. His fork sliced through the salmon, and he speared a broccoli floret as well.
She savored a bite of lobster, then said, “I wouldn’t have recognized him. You know how it is when you see people out of context.” She waited for that to sink in, but her father’s gaze didn’t flicker. “But he recognized me. I have no idea why. Maybe it was because of your phone call.” Her smile felt stretched across her face.
“You can quit the games, Sienna,” he drawled. “I know where you’re going.”
“Good,” she said with a calm she didn’t feel. “Then maybe you can clarify for me why you told him I’d changed my mind and didn’t feel that Smithfield and Vine was the right firm for me. Which then prompted Mr. Smithfield to cancel my interview.”
Her father didn’t break out in a sweat. He was the coolest cucumber in the salad. He finished another forkful of salmon, this time topped with rice pilaf, only then saying, “You know the best place for you is Walker and Walker, where you have me to guide you. I let you go off on your own to a huge corporation. But even when you realized your mistake, you went to Smithfield.” His face pinched like a spinster detecting a bad smell. “It was my duty to help you see that Walker and Walker is far superior. And where you belong.”
So that was it. He couldn’t have his daughter going to his biggest competitor. “And you screwed me over because you knew what was best for me?”
“I don’t like your tone or your language, Sienna.” His voice dipped to a growl.
Softly, without all the animosity rising in her, she said, “I don’t care what you like, Father.” She said it the way she used to say Mother when her mom made her so angry she could scream. “There’s no way I’m ever going to work for you. Even if I have to leave the city and move to L.A. Or Chicago or New York. And I’m only a member of your wedding party because I like Bron. She’s a friend. Which is why I call her Bron, because that’s what she likes, not Brianna.”
She ate more of the delicious lobster. She wouldn’t walk out on this fabulous meal. Especially since lobster had been the most expensive thing on the menu.
He sighed wearily, as if she were an annoying thirteen-year-old who no longer showed respect for her parents. “You’re young, Sienna. You don’t know what’s good for you. One day, you and Matthew could run my firm.”
She wanted to snort. “I don’t think so. You’ll make Matthew the senior partner, expecting him to lord it over me. You want me under your thumb to keep me from rising up the ladder. Why? Because I’m a woman?” Her words were heartfelt, her thoughts tearing a hole inside her.
“You make it sound as if I hate you, Sienna. If I did, I’d never make you an offer at all. Instead, I’m giving you the biggest opportunity of your life.” A blaze sparked in the depths of his gaze. “Just like I offered your mother when I married her. But she didn’t know what was good for her either.” The fire in his eyes chilled her.
“I know you two didn’t have a great marriage. But I shouldn’t have to pay for that.” When he opened his mouth to speak, she rushed on, “I just wanted you to know that Mr. Smithfield offered me another opportunity. And this time, I don’t need you to call him.”
“You’re going to regret it, I promise you. It’s the biggest mistake of your life, and it’s going to bite you in the ass.” He smiled, an ugly, wolfish grin, and for the first time ever, she believed she was seeing the real man.
He lowered his voice to a harsh note. “And tell your mother it’ll bite her in the ass too.”
Then slowly, methodically, his meal only half finished, he folded his napkin and laid it on the table. Sliding out of the booth gracefully, he rose to his feet, signaling the waiter with a snap of his fingers. “Put this on my tab.”
