Page 10 of The Bourbon Bride

I silently seethe next to her. She always uses this tactic to keep me in line. The trust is how both the Fairchild inheritance and the Thackery fortune trickle down until I’m married and gain full access to it. As long as Mama is alive and I’m unwed, she will be the executor with the power to make it flow or shut it off completely. It’s an outdated tradition that has carried over from generations past in which women didn’t inherit the legacy of the family business and required a sizeable dowry to ensure a good marriage. The trust is a selling point for any potential husband to marry a Fairchild daughter or a way to assure a good marriage for a spare son.

I’m a special case as I’m an only child and a female, so I not only stand to inherit the trust but also the legacy of the business. Even Daddy has less power over the way the trust works than she does. It’s arranged so the trust is controlled by the mother in the hopes that she will be a bit more scrupulous in marrying off her brood of children who aren’t inheriting the big-ticket item of the legacy.

Things became a bit more complicated because Mama and Daddy’s marriage was arranged by their well-meaning parents much like a business deal. While not uncommon to have wealthy families promising their children in marriage to strengthen alliances and increase status, it became far more profitable to merge the two powerful families. They saw a way to funnel the Thackery agriculture money into the depleted Fairchild hotel business and in return, the hotel notoriety would come back to bolster the agriculture business, so they set their kids up and told them to play nice in order to build something even better.

That money saved The Mansion here in Savannah. It also allowed Daddy to take over and grow it into the Xenios Group which now has luxury boutique hotels in every major city and revered coastal town along the Eastern Seaboard. Once the hotel business was booming, the agricultural side of things got the boost it needed and expanded across the South as well. Daddy may have grown their empire and increased their fortunes, but it was because of Mama’s money that he could make it happen. She’s always had the upper hand in their relationship because of it.

“It’s always about money with you,” I grumble under my breath, but leave it at that. It doesn’t pay to argue with Mama. She’ll figure out a way to shut me up or resort to threatening my trust when she’s lacking the high ground. She makes me even more dependent on her when she’s my only source of income, which she loves, because then I have to do exactly as she says.

I can’t exactly live a penniless existence right now. I took some time off after graduation to get through this debutante season. Not working means I don’t have money outside of the trust. A business degree is good in theory, but without practice, it won’t serve me well while unemployed. My internships during college were at major hotels in New York and Chicago, both of which offered me positions after graduation, but Mama wants me to stay here in Savannah where she can keep an eye on me. Besides, Daddy has always insisted I would run the Fairchild side of the business at The Mansion, where it all started, so I’m pretty deeply rooted in Savannah.

The Mansion has been in the family for generations and has an incredible, albeit often painful, history. My great-great-great-grandparents sold off much of their farming land and turned their antebellum home into a hotel after the Civil War when the idea of maintaining a plantation became abhorrent. Later, my great-grandmother managed to keep her entire staff employed and even housed a few of their families during the Great Depression, a staggering feat for a single hotel run by a widow in the thirties. My grandparents helped draft the petition that turned the area that grew up around The Mansion into Savannah’s historic district in the 1960s as their hotel business began to wither. Now Daddy has a whole host of gorgeous properties under his direction and wants me running The Mansion before I take over the Xenios Group. Someday, that is. Daddy is happily working on his empire, and I don’t have the experience to take over, yet. I’ll start in a management position at The Mansion in the New Year and will begin working toward my legacy that way.

“You scrub those potatoes any harder and we won’t have anything to eat with this chicken,” Mama says, opening the oven to put a tray inside to roast.

“I was just thinking about great-granny Fairchild housing the staff during the Great Depression. She was really something.”

“Your granny knew she needed workers to keep the hotel running but couldn’t afford to pay them with so few people able to travel or pay for a hotel stay. She let them work for room and board.” Mama bumps my hip with hers to move me out of the way so she can wash her hands in the sink.

“She came up with a creative solution to a widespread problem. I admire her. I hope I can leave a lasting mark on the legacy like she did.”

Mama shuts off the tap and purses her lips. “My grandparents donated cotton to the U.S. Army to make uniforms for both World Wars. What do you think about them?” she asks, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.

“Admirable as well.” I put all the potatoes in a pot of water and pass them over to her to boil. A thought strikes me.

“Why didn’t the Thackerys ever get into the processing business for their cotton and crops? They always dealt with the raw materials and sold them off for the rest of the process.”

My mind spins with possibilities. I don’t have much say in how the Thackery Agriculture endeavors are run, as that passed primarily to Mama’s brother and my cousins after him. But she maintains a seat on the board, has a stake in the company, and has plenty of pull that will one day pass to me, and I have lots of ideas that could be beneficial for everyone.

“If they owned the processing and manufacturing plants to turn the materials into textiles, they could have increased revenue streams. Upward vertical integration.”

“Hmm,” Mama says absently, either not listening or not caring about what I have to say. “That’s all I need help with now,” she says with a wave. “Go change into something a little nicer.”

I look down at my green silk blouse, tweed wide-leg pants, and dark brown booties with a stacked heel. “What’s wrong with this? The entire outfit is designer and I know I look good. Besides, I didn’t bring anything else with me.” I chose the top because it’s the same color as Hayes’s eyes and that gave me a little strength to get through an unpleasant dinner.

“Just put on a dress, Paige. I have one picked out for you in my closet. Shoes, too. They’re under the dress.”

I scowl at her. This woman has no boundaries. I turn on my heel and march out of the kitchen, but not to get changed. She’ll have to deal with my perfectly fine attire whether she likes it or not.

My attire is not fine.

Apparently, Mama shared the fancy dress memo with the Daniels and I’m the only one dressed down at the table. Mama had to hide her anger because I didn’t come downstairs again until the company had arrived and it was too late. Had it been anyone else, I’m pretty sure she would have told me to march my behind right back up the stairs and change anyway. Something about the Daniels family makes her hold her tongue.

Dinner is an uncomfortable affair from the start. I’m seated across from Garrison and have to avoid his leering gaze. His feet keep feeling around for my legs like he wants to play footsie. That’s a no-go for me. The one good thing about wearing unrestrictive pants to a fancy dinner is I can sit in my chair with my legs crossed on the seat and avoid his giant searching foot altogether.

Mama sets down a green salad at my place, knowing I won’t eat the chicken. “You’re looking a littlepuffy, Paige. Maybe you should avoid heavy foods for a while. I used a fat-free vinaigrette as dressing. Put your feet on the floor,“ she finishes on a hiss.

That’s just her code foryou’re gaining weight and I can’t have a fat daughter.And also, I’m embarrassing her.

I glare at her as she takes her place next to Daddy and uncross my legs to drop them to the floor, only to wrap my ankles around the chair legs to keep away from any more of Garrison’s antics. I’ll admit I’ve put on a little weight since graduating college. I blame the lack of a schedule other than volunteering opportunities and social events that all center around food. It doesn’t make me feel any better about this dinner to be self-conscious about my body in addition to being irritated by Mama’s meddling.

I’m quickly reminded that my parents are not the only ones who are meddling and obsessive.

“Garrison was in the top ten percent of his class; can you believe that? Our son is such a smarty-pants.” Mrs. Daniels beams at Garrison, who lounges back in his chair across from me and sends me a lazy smile he must think looks sexy. He blows me a kiss next, and I throw up a little in my mouth.

“He had offers from law firms all over Georgia but chose to come back to Savannah to be close to family. We are so glad to have him back.” Mr. Daniels is just as insistent as his wife about his son being God’s gift to everyone.

“You’re going to change the world,” Mrs. Daniels says directly to Garrison, and he turns the full charm of his smile on her.

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