Page 23 of Love and Other Champagne Problems

But whereas my mother and I both battled it out, my father had a consistent, exhausted approach when it came to me, like even just breathing the same air was taxing on his time.

Tuesday afternoon, I rapped my knuckles on the closed door with my free hand, waiting for the call. “You may enter,” my father said in a clear voice, not bothering asking who it was.

I pushed open the door to his office at the hotel, immediately greeted with the differences between his office and my mother’s. Where hers had been light andairy, my father’s office had with dark mahogany wood and lots of it. His desk was dark, his bookshelves were dark, though they held nothing notable on them. My father never cared much to flaunt books he never read.A clean space is a productive space, he’d always say.People who collect books they never touch are trying to help themselves feel more important than they are.

He had a lot of sayings that never made much sense to me.

“I thought you might be in need of a mid-day drink,” I said as I entered, holding a short-stemmed glass of brandy, no ice.

My father didn’t hesitate before stretching out his hand. “Where’s Mr. Pennington?”

“Mother asked for his help at the country club today. Don’t worry, I don’t plan on leaving the grounds and causing a scene.”

He made a displeased face as he took in his first measly sip. After letting his tastebuds adjust, he took a longer drink.

Sometimes I allowed myself to think dark thoughts with a small glimmer of amusement. Picturing the chandelier falling at Saturday’s event was one example. Thinking about what it’d be like to shatter every floor to ceiling window in the Massey Suites hotel was another. Sometimes I acted on those impulsive thoughts, like kissing Sumner. Most of the time I didn’t, though. I was calculated with my temper tantrums, as I’d said.

But as my father took his first sip of brandy, I always wondered what would happen if I spiked it with something.

I studied him closer. My father was a prim and proper man, no facial hair marring his face, never let a hair on his gray head stray out of place. It was a little tousled now, as if he’d been running his fingers through it. “Bad day?” I asked with only a glimmer of true curiosity.

My father mumbled under his breath and drained the rest of the brandy. Three drinks; that was practically a record for him. “I’m not pleased with you after your latest scandal.”

“Which one?”

“Your little display Saturday. With your behaviors, the Astors may call everything off. I doubt they’d want aparty girlruining their reputation.”

“I can’t imagine one measly little kiss would get them to reconsider letting me marry their son, not when there’s a multi-million-dollar business deal on the line.”

“I know it’s not ideal for your generation,” my father went on as if I hadn’t spoken. His eyes already looked a little glassy. “This generation is all about loving who you want and not working unless it’s your dream. Bah. That’s the biggest piece of baloney this world is trying to sell right now.”

I let him rant away, uninterested, but letting him get it out now would turn in my favor later.

“It’s work. It’s not supposed to be fun. Marriage—back in the old days, a woman couldn’t marry a man without a dowry. Marriages have always been contracts. People have forgotten that.”

Well, he was in a particular mood today, wasn’t he? They’d said that Aaron Astor had been made aware of the incident, but I wondered if the Astors weremore displeased than my parents let on. I forced my lips flat, knowing that a smile would be suicide. “Is Aaron still wanting to marry me?”

“His parents, as of now, are still wanting to carry through with it. They, fortunately, see the benefits of our families merging.”

“But what about Aaron?”

“How should I know what he’s thinking? I just know about his parents.”

Interesting. Was there a possibility that he was a pawn in this game as well? I’d never considered it in all the times I’d thought about him. Bad teeth, thinning hair, but never like me, forced against his will.

“From here on out, you need to be on your best behavior, Margot.” He rubbed his brow. “You’ll appreciate everything down the road, a few years into marriage, when you’ve got kids to enjoy?—”

“You can force me to marry a man,” I snapped. “But you can’t force me to have his children.”

My father buried his head in his hands. “What do you want from us, Margot?” he asked with a suffering sigh. “What will make you be a good girl about this?”

For a moment, I relished in his defeated posture and the fact that I’d been the one to curve those broad shoulders. All the years of ignoring me were biting them in the tush, and it was more than a little satisfying to see. Though as much as I resented them, there was always that small voice in the back of my mind that wanted to make them proud. The relationship wasn’t a healthy one, but it never had been.

However, it segued beautifully into the reason why I’d brought him brandy in the first place.

“I want to talk to him,” I said finally. “I want to talk to Aaron before we meet.”

“Your mother and I don’t trust you on the phone with him. Knowing you, you’ll say something ridiculous, and he’ll call it off.”

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