Page 78 of All Yours

“He wasn’t supposed to come here and ask you first,” Mom muttered.

“He wasn’t supposed to?” I pulled my hands into my lap, clenching them into fists. “Have you been working with Sebastian?”

“Oh, no. We only communicated through our lawyers,” she said.

“You called the reporters and told them to be here today,” I said as it occurred to me that was why we had to meet for lunch in public.

“Don’t make a scene, dear,” Mom said. “It’s a great opportunity.”

“Of course, you’ll have to go back to using your first name, Julia.” Dad took another sip of coffee and grimaced. “The coffee here is awful.”

“I’m not going back to Greenwich.”

“Now darling,” Mom said, reaching across the table again, but I kept my hands under the table, out of reach.

“Don’t,” I said.

“Is it that guy?” Dad asked.

“There’s a boy?” Mom asked.

“The carpenter,” Dad said with a shrug. “The one Sebastian got into a fight with.”

“He’s not a carpenter,” I said.

“He can come too,” she said. “There’s work for carpenters in Greenwich.”

“He’s not a carpenter.”

“He’ll have to sign a contract to be on the show, too,” Dad said.

“No contract,” I hissed.

“For the carpenter?” Dad asked.

I rubbed my temples. “He’s a contractor, not a carpenter. And there’s no way you two are this stupid.”

“How dare you—” Mom started.

“No,” I interrupted. “You two are trying to drive me insane right now. There’s no other explanation. What about my life the past five years makes you think I would be remotely interested in returning to Connecticut and having a film crew following me?”

“What’s not to like? It’s an amazing opportunity. Do you know how rich those families get with their own tv shows?” Dad asked.

“Oh my god. You two are broke,” I blurted out. The revelation popped out the moment it occurred.

“We are notbroke.” Dad held his hand up and opened it and closed it a few times while working his mouth, looking for the words. “A little cash strapped after the stocks tanked, but we’ll be back soon.”

My heart thudded against my rib cage as I tried to steady my breath and keep my voice as low and even as possible. My arms itched to flip the table and cause a scene. “Sorry guys, I’m not your cash cow anymore.”

“Oh, look at you, sitting there in your self-righteousness,” Dad said, gesturing at me. “Do you have any idea what those tennis lessons cost? Let alone that IMG academy. Who do you think paid for all that?”

“I didn’t ask for all that,” I snapped.

“What a fine thank you,” Dad retorted.

“After I won Wimbledon, it was my earnings that supported you two. I know that now. So, don’t play like I did nothing but mooch off you over the years. I was a minor child. The one thing I don’t know is exactly how much profit you earned off me.”

“After expenses, it was barely enough to exist on,” Mom said.

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