The Family Game by Catherine Steadman (11)
Tomorrow is Thanksgiving!
I stare at my phone screen unblinking. No. Oh my God, no. I did not know that. I feel my face throb with heat, my nausea resurfacing, until colors speckle my vision of the city through the cab window.
She tricked me. Matilda straight up tricked me into a Thanksgiving dinner.
I may be British but I know Thanksgiving is a big deal and definitely not something to be wandered into lightly, the day before it happens, having never met another soul at the table. My stomach flips as I picture the scene in my mind’s eye.
I open my cab window, letting the cold air cool my flaming cheeks. New York rushes past, and life goes on, the world keeps turning even though I am heading directly into the heart of the Holbeck clan, tomorrow evening, like a lamb to the slaughter.
Matilda tricked me and I didn’t even notice it happening. If she’s the presentable face of that family, then I will need to be on my toes tomorrow night. A shudder runs through me as I close the window and it hits me that I will finally be meeting Robert Holbeck.
I stare down at Edward’s replies. He’s worried. He’s annoyed with them already. He thinks they’re up to their old tricks. But if there’s one thing Matilda said this afternoon that I can be sure is true it’s that, her Thanksgiving trick aside, this time things will be different.
Edward’s family needs me. They can’t afford to push me away, because if they do, they’ll lose him forever.
I carefully tap out a reply to Edward.
Of course, I knew it was Thanksgiving.
Matilda and I thought it might be a good
way to kick things off x
4
The More the Merrier
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 24
Edward gets back from San Diego earlier than expected the next morning.
When I hear the front-door latch lift I rush to quickly shut down the open tab on my screen, fumbling to delete the recent search history. I’ve been googling Edward’s ex-girlfriends, the ones that didn’t make the Holbeck cut. As if, somehow, I might uncover the secret reasons they failed.
Of course Edward has told me about them, and God knows I’ve looked them all up before now, but back in the early days I was only concerned with torturing myself through comparison; now I have my business brain on. I want to know the details.
I want to know what exactly made them sub-Holbeck in Edward’s family’s eyes. I have less than twelve hours till I meet them and I want to be armed, at least, with knowledge of how my predecessors failed.
Evidence of my deep dive erased, I head out to meet Edward as he lugs his suitcase into the hallway.
He looks up at me as he unlatches his case and smiles, impossibly fresh for this time of the morning—especially considering the flight he’s just taken. I on the other hand look exhausted. I’ve been ill now for three days straight, the nausea and lethargy unabated. “You look awful,” he says with a grin. “Did you miss me that much?”
It’s just a joke and I know he loves me, regardless of my pallor, but to my utter horror tears burst from me unbidden. It must be the emotional buildup and low-key stress of the last few days breaking to the surface, though I hadn’t really been aware of its presence until now.
I throw my arms around him, burying my face in his sweater to inhale the warm, fresh scent of his cologne. Cedar and citrus. This is very unlike me; I never cry. And I dare not look up at him now, crippled with the sheer weight of my own awkward need. I feel his hand in my hair, his mouth close to my ear as he speaks.
“I missed you a ridiculous amount too,” he whispers, then kisses the top of my head. “How did it go with Sis? I’m guessing good given our Thanksgiving plans tonight.”
I look up to check his expression, to see if Thanksgiving is a problem that we need to address, but his face shows nothing more than mild surprise at my sudden clinginess.
“So you’re okay with tonight?” I check.
“I am if you are. But—and don’t take this the wrong way—you don’t seem like you’re in quite the right frame of mind for tonight?”
He takes in my pasty, tearstained face. “It’s food poisoning or something,” I tell him, quickly wiping the tears away and pulling myself together. I am not going to be the reason tonight fails. “I’m fine. I’ll be fine. I’ve had it a few days now. But it’s manageable.”
I untangle myself from him and head to the kitchen, hoping to locate something that might perk me up. “Tea? Coffee?” I ask him.
“Err, yeah, coffee, thanks,” he calls after me.
From my research into Edward’s exes this morning, being from a wealthy, notable family doesn’t seem to be enough for the Holbecks. Edward’s first girlfriend out of university was the daughter of a Fortune 500 founder and that didn’t work out. I found a few society-page magazine photos of them on Reddit. Girlfriends of the super-rich. I know, I’m a terrible person. In the shots they both look so young, squinting in the harsh pop of a paparazzi flash. Rosy-cheeked, clammy hands held tight, like two wholesome Ralph Lauren models. Lily was beautiful, a good match for him in looks and height and breeding. She’s married to a senator now, with three freckle-faced angel kids and a chocolate Labrador. So the Holbecks must require something else from their potential daughters-in-law, something more than money and looks and prestige. God knows what the Holbecks had against Lily, or—if Matilda is to be believed—what Robert Holbeck in particular had against her; I couldn’t imagine a more perfect match for Edward.