Page 13 of Never the Best

"I don't think it was Aurora who she offended." No, I didn't want to hurl this heavy glass on the wall but rather into my father's face. "It was Pearl Beaumont."

My father waved a hand. "No one cares about the Beaumonts, especiallyher. You know, Cash has made some lousy decisions of late, and I hear that Pearl signed away her entire inheritance."

I knew about Cash’s poor investments but not about Pearl giving up her inheritance. Was that why she was staying with Aunt Hattie?

I knew Cash well enough to know he wouldn’t share those kinds of details with me. He’d rather complain about his sister than show any gratitude for the fact that she’d given him her share of the family wealth. The Beaumonts of the past had made their fortune in real estate, though I’d never dealt with them from a business perspective. I recalled that Pearl’s father had passed away when she was still a child, leaving the estate in the hands of trustees who mismanaged it—only for Cash to continue the decline when it eventually fell to him. They weren’t the first old-money Savannah family to squander a legacy until there was nothing left for the next generation, and they certainly wouldn’t be the last.

"She's staying with Hattie, who we all know is fuckin' crazy,” my father continued.

Heneverliked Aunt Hattie, my mother's younger sister. Big surprise there. Harriett “Hattie” Odom was what old, white Southern men called aproblematicwoman. In Savannah,she commanded respect and loyalty, her presence as steady and unyielding as the ancient live oaks. She was fiercely independent and unapologetically strong. She had carved her place in Savannah society through her intelligence, wit, and unwavering sense of self. She was equal parts charm and steel, capable of delivering a razor-sharp observation with a honey-sweet tone.

Unlike other society belles, Hattie never married. She remained single and managed her father's steel mills with him. When he passed, she sold it all and had invested her part of the buyout wisely, so it had grown. Her investments included Pearl's new employer, Savannah Lace, where she sat on the board to support her friend, Nina Davenport.

Unlike the indomitable Harriet Odom, my father had invested my mother's share of the steel mills in ventures that were probably as unwise as Cash Beaumont's.

I wondered if my father realized that, without me, the Vanderbilts would be having the same financial issues as the Beaumonts. If he did, he never thanked me. But then, men like him pretended they were winners even when they were losing.

"This the girl you slept with in high school, isn't it?" he sneered. "Just shows her loose morals."

"And mine," I instantly countered.

My father cocked an eyebrow.

"Wehad sex—Iwas involved."

"You're a man," my father scoffed.

Like hell I'd been a man then. The way I'd behaved with Pearl had not beenmanlyat all.

"Anyway." Father looked at his watch. "Time to head to The Alabaster."

I rose, wanting very much not to go to my engagement party. Josie and her mother, along with mine and, in fact, Pearl's, who was Josie's godmother, planned the damn thing and had been making it more elaborate by the minute ever since she got knocked up. They'd chosen, thanks to the Vance fortune, Savannah’s most luxurious hotel and a landmark of old Southern grandeur as the venue for the debacle our lives together were going to be.

“Yes, sir,” I clipped.

He put his arm around me. "You know, son, you did right with Josie. The Vances are the right kind of family. And like I said, with a little bit of training, I'm sure she'll make you a good wife."

I should've left it right there, but I didn't; I couldn't. "And what does a good wife mean, sir?"

He gave me a look like I’d asked the stupidest question in the world. His arm tightened around my shoulders, a mock show of camaraderie that felt more like a trap.

"A good wife knows her place." His voice dripped with superiority and condescension. "She supports her husband. She knows when to keep her mouth shut. She knows how to look pretty on his arm at events, and how to run a home without bothering him about the details. And if she’s smart—well, smart enough—she’ll give you sons who know how to carry on the family name."

I stiffened under the weight of his arm, disgust curling in my stomach, almost choking me. His words were so matter-of-fact, as if this was just the way the world worked, like he couldn’t fathom there was anything wrong with his worldview.

"Right."

He chuckled as he continued, “Son, these days, women keep saying they want more—a career, their own lives—whatever the hell that means. Let me give you some advice. You don’t marry a woman who wants to bemore thanyour wife. You marry herto beyour wife, to complement you. If she starts chasing things outside the marriage, she’ll make your life miserable. Mark my words—too much ambition in a wife is a recipe for disaster.”

He clapped me on the shoulder as if he’d just passed down tremendous fatherly wisdom. "You’ll see, in time, that I’m right. Josie’s got the right breeding for this. She just needs a little guidance. That’s your job, Rhett."

I didn’t reply. What could I possibly say when he acted like we’d just had a perfectly normal conversation? In my father’s mind, my job wasn’t just to uphold the family name and fortune—it was to mold my wife into some Stepford ideal that would fit neatly into his warped sense of tradition.

“Josie just needs a tighter leash. A Vanderbilt wife needs to understand her place.”

God, I hated the way my father talked about women like they were accessories to be managed and displayed; their value tied entirely to how well they played their roles.

“Yes, sir,” I lied, shrugging his arm away, because I wanted to break it, as I opened his office doorso we could go to the parlor and collect our women, and then head to fuck my life up in front of Savannah society.

---