Page 64 of Filthy Rich

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” I say, finishing her blood pressure check and starting with her medicines. “I’m sure you did the best you could. Most parents do.”

“Spoken with the blind ignorance of a person with no kids,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“If you don’t want my opinion, you shouldn’t discuss these things with me,” I say.

“Well, what else am I gonna do?” she mutters. “Talk to the dog?”

“At least I listen,” I say, tipping my head in Juniper’s direction. The dog has hopped up onto one of the side tables and is sniffing hopefully at her latest box of chocolates.

“Let’s just say that I’m sick to the back teeth of the whole bunch of those kids.” She gives herself a narrowed look in the mirror and nods sharply. “I plan to knock some heads together when I get back home. Let’s just put it that way.”

Things are getting interesting. “What does that mean?”

“It means I’ll be speaking to my lawyers about their inheritances, that’s what,” she says darkly.

I keep my mouth shut again but can’t stop my eyebrows from shooting up to my hairline.

“That’s right,” she says with grim satisfaction.

“I think you should move to Florida to live near your niece, Penny,” I say on impulse. “You know she’d love to have you.”

“And leave my world in New York?” she says, aghast. “What would I do for friends?”

“Are you kidding me? Look how many new friends you made on the cruise. You could move into some swanky retirement community where they have nurses on staff and tons of activities and day trips and whatnot. You’d be the belle of the ball. And you wouldn’t have to rattle around by yourself in your massive apartment. You know you hate spending nighttime alone.”

She stares off into space, frowning thoughtfully.

“Think about it,” I add. “I’m a little concerned about your memory sometimes. What are you going to do when I start my job at the oncology center in the fall?”

“My memory is as sharp as ever,” she says, frowning. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I want to talk about knocking my shitty kids’ heads together. And speaking of knocking heads together…”

Oh, no. Here it comes. The only reason I’ve avoided her lecture until now is because we haven’t had a real opportunity to talk since we got back from the Venice excursion.

“Tamsyn, honey, have you lost your mind? Lucien Winter? Didn’t I warn you about him? What on God’s green earth do you think you’re doing?”

“I don’t know,” I say miserably.

“We’ve got to toughen up, Tamsyn. You and me both. We know what’s good for us, but we look the other way when people take advantage because we want to see the best in them. We want to believe things will work out.” Bitter laugh. “The sooner we both realize that it never works out, the happier we’ll be.”

“Lucien and I are just having fun getting to know each other,” I say, determined to put the best face possible on things. There goes my pride again, acting up. But I want her to see me as a grown woman who can handle myself. Someone who’s worthy and possesses plenty of free will, even if she’s not particularly sophisticated.

Derisive sound from Mrs. Hooper. “Why is everyone always so eager to get to know each other? You think that can be done in a couple of weeks? You’re a fool if you do, Tam. A fool. Take it from someone who was married for longer than you’ve been alive. You think you know people. You think you understand them and how they’ll behave. But you never really do. There’s always a secret in there somewhere. They’ll hurt you every time. And that’s God’s honest truth.”

“I’ll be fine, Mrs. Hooper,” I say, willing it to be true even though I’m drowning in her bleak assessment. “I went into this with my eyes open.”

“Fine?” A whoop of dismissive laughter. “Eyes open? I doubt that, but even if they are open, you’re still blinded by your rose-colored glasses. Every girl your age wears them. You’re headed straight for the heartbreak express, that’s what you’re doing. There’s no other way for this to end. You know that, don’t you?”

I say nothing. I have no words because I know she’s right.

“Do you think a silly girl like you is right for a man like that? Do you think that, what, he’ll marry you? That you’ll keep his attention for more than a couple of weeks? Honey, please. I know you and I haven’t been together that long, but hasn’t some of my cynicism worn off on you by now? You know better. As soon as we get back home, he’s going to ghost you and forget you like that.”

The sound of her snapping fingers perfectly accentuates my hollow feeling inside.

“Well, you’ve made your bed. Now you’ll just have to lie in it, won’t you?” she continues, waving her hand and rummaging around on her dressing table for something. “The only good thing is that we’ll be back home soon. It’ll be easier for you. Once you get back to your normal routine with your little friends and everything. Just don’t be surprised when he turns up on Page Six with some model. He always goes for the tall types with black hair. The ones who look like Ravenna. Which just goes to show he’s never gotten over her. You know that, right? Dead or alive, she’s the love of his life. That’s not going to change.”

I busy myself putting away her medications and flash back to this afternoon’s visitation from a Ravenna look-alike, my humiliation complete.

“Well, you young people never listen, do you? You always do what you’re going to do anyway.” She passes me a little jewelry box. “Here. You better take this. It’ll cheer you up.”

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