Page 109 of Second Time Around
“Bets, I think they intend to,” Twain said from the head of the table. Will noticed that his father’s shoulders were so rounded that they no longer spanned the back of the heavy dining room chair. His tone was resigned.
“Nonsense,” Betsy said. “They just need a vacation.”
Schuyler sighed. “Mum, I’ve tried it your way. Now it’s my turn to decide where my future lies.”
“What’syourexcuse, Will?” his mother said, turning away from her daughter. “You did what you wanted to do right from the start.”
“I proved that I could succeed by the standards of your world,” Will said. “I have nothing else to prove.”
“You know I was a classics major, too,” his father said, surprising Will. Twain sounded almost ... nostalgic.
“That was because lawyers use Latin,” Betsy said.
Twain shrugged. “Maybe.”
Betsy put her coffee cup down with a clatter. “I can’t believe this. You two are throwing away brilliant careers to do what? Be a bleeding-heart pursuer of justice and a schoolteacher.”
“I thought Ceres was no better than a burger chain,” Will said, unable to keep the edge out of his voice.
Betsy waved her hand in dismissal. “My friends’ children all eat at Ceres.”
“And that makes it acceptable,” Schuyler said, her expression pure exasperation. “Instead of making more money that we don’t need, we’re putting our skills and talents at the disposal of people who can use the help.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, stop trying to make me feel guilty,” Betsy said, taking a gulp of the wine she’d abandoned earlier. “What am I supposed to tell my friends?”
“Tell them your children are following their passions,” Twain spoke up, his voice strong. “That’s something to be proud of.”
This time Will’s and Schuyler’s gazes met in astonishment. Had their father not only taken their side but also claimed he was proud of them?
Betsy sniffed. “All this folderol about following passions. We did what our parents told us because they knew what would make us happy in the long run.”
“Are you sure of that, Bets?” Twain asked. “Or did they just want us to keep their world going the way it was so they could be comfortable?”
“Let’s not get philosophical,” Betsy said. “This is about our children’slives.”
“That’s exactly right,” Will said. “Because you are our parents and we love you, we are giving you the consideration of letting you know first. However, our lives are our own and we will make our own decisions.”
“This isn’t about you, Mum,” Schuyler said gently. “It’s about Will and me.”
“You’re my children, so it affects me, too. I don’t want to see you make a terrible mistake.” But the certainty had faded from her voice.
“Bets, they’re adults,” Twain said. “Let’s wish them well, and hope they find joy in their new paths.”
His father’s words were both gentle and yearning.
“We appreciate your backing, Dad,” Will said, his astonishment receding under the warmth of his father’s support.
“That means a lot,” Schuyler agreed.
They turned to look at their mother. She picked up her coffee again. “You know your father can’t hold a place for you at the firm,” she said to Schuyler. “And I hope this doesn’t mean you’re going to marry that woman you brought to the Spring Fling,” she sniped at Will.
“I’d be fortunate if she’d have me,” Will said, fighting to control the fury that flared at his mother’s tone.
“She didn’t fit in, dear,” his mother said. “That dreadful cheap dress.”
“She was dressed more appropriately than some of my friends were,” Schuyler said.
“Furthermore,” Will said, letting ice crust over his anger, “the fact that she could dress so well on a limited budget is more impressive than your friends spending thousands of dollars to look fashionable.”
