Stone Cold Fox (15)
Collin fetched me from the front of my (well, Morris’s) building in a black Range Rover, which was a thrill, since we were usually carted around by a driver on the Case payroll. Collin thought it would be fun to drive us himself, like it was a novel thing to do. I hadn’t been in the passenger seat of a vehicle in quite some time, so I enjoyed our leisurely journey to the suburbs, basking in the rays shining in from the window. SPF 100+ applied to preserve the moneymaker.
Calliope Case was waiting for us just outside the entrance, eager to pass judgment on her older brother’s new companion. She waved nonchalantly, nibbling on a small packet of sunflower seeds in bare feet, not quite smiling, but a warm enough reception for Connecticut. She wore a short-sleeved white T-shirt, sheer enough to see her white underthings, and a long blush skirt made of tulle. The ballet boho babe vibe was unexpected, but it suited her as the youngest of the clan with her long and wild strawberry ringlets.
“Hi,” she buzzed in that odd East Coast accent of theirs. “Wow, Coll. She’s gorgeous.” It was definitely a compliment, but more for Collin’s benefit than my own.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Calliope.” I held a tasteful bouquet of peonies for the lady of the manor, a gesture that was well-suited to my fabricated upbringing in the South, but Calliope snatched them from me.
“Mm-hmm, how was the drive?”
Collin and I followed Calliope into the house, the two of them making idle chitchat about traffic and the annoyance of other drivers on the road. She had the kind of skinny ankles with a protruding Achilles tendon that suggested Calliope toed the line between naturally thin and disordered eating. She led us into the front parlor and took a big whiff of the flowers before she flopped onto a cream chaise, her skirt flouncing along with her.
“Mom and Dad should be out in a sec and Chloe isn’t even here yet. She’s always late,” Calliope explained to me, finally making direct contact.
“Sounds about right,” Collin said. I noticed he already slipped off his loafers and sat cross-legged on the couch in his socks, slouching forward. Ick. It was fascinating to see these adults ease into such childlike behavior in the home of their parents. It would almost be charming if I didn’t find it so unattractive. I wanted Collin at my side, staking his claim, proud of his prize—me. Not curled into a ball on the sofa like a little boy. I remained upright in a wingback chair, tilting a bit forward myself, with one leg crossed behind the other like Princess goddamn Grace to make a good first impression on my future in-laws.
“I think she was picking up Gale as a favor for Mom. I guess she wanted to join in the fun.” Calliope sneered. While I hated the surprising revelation that Gale would be there for a milestone moment in my relationship with Collin, I was happy to observe that Calliope seemed to share my scorn for the woman.
“Oh, I didn’t know she was coming,” Collin said, clearly surprised, too. “Are Royce and Nora joining as well?” Those had to be Gale’s parents. The names.
“I don’t think so. Haven’t seen those two around much in the past month. I think there was a little falling-out over some silent auction item at the NYSCF thingy they all went to. Mom was going on and on about it, but I wasn’t paying close attention because who cares?” Calliope laughed and then turned her attention to me. “Bea, how’s work?”
Calliope said work like it was a foreign word to her, in that same patronizing tone Gale had at the trivia night. Whatever affection Calliope had earned from me was swiftly tossed aside.
“It’s fantastic,” I lied. I had really fallen from grace in Len’s eyes since he had found out about Collin and me. It was subtle, but I could feel it and I wasn’t pleased about it. “I really enjoy my work. I’m competitive so it scratches that itch.”
“What do you like about it? Besides working for our company?” She rolled on her side and extended one of her legs up, taking care to hold on to it through the skirt. I knew I was having a conversation with a woman in her twenties, but I felt like I was being interrogated by a precocious toddler.
“Obviously the Case Company is one of my favorite clients.”
“I bet.” She grinned.
“Collin!” I heard a woman’s voice bellow down the hallway. Sultry with some texture. Like someone who smoked in the eighties and still engaged in the occasional cheeky ciggy when no one was watching. This was the moment. And there she was. Mrs. Haven Case, a vision in daytime pastel Chanel with a bronzed precision bob, sharp green eyes and not-so-subtle Botox. The archetypal old-money mother. “Sweetheart,” she purred at Collin. I stood up to greet her, but she breezed right past me to embrace her baby boy. Even so, I noticed her maternal touch was still quite removed, with plenty of space in between their bodies. Her kisses were in the air on either side of Collin’s cheeks. She gave him two stiff pats on each of his shoulders. Finally, she twirled around to face me, scanning me up and down with a robotic smile.
“So this is the infamous Bea.” She clasped her hands together, but didn’t reach for me, not for so much as a handshake. “Dear, come and meet Bea,” Haven called out behind me, and Hayes Case rounded the corner.
I had seen Mr. Case before in passing at Collin’s office, though we had not yet formally met. He was still technically the CEO of the Case Company, but he had a slim presence at the office, once or twice a month, preferring to take meetings on the golf course or at the Metropolitan Club if he happened to be in the city. He was a man of average build, shorter than Collin, but broader overall. Still had his hair and embraced the gray. It also looked like he maintained an exercise regimen, absent of a paunch, but he was certainly not ripped. He had a presence. Hayes Case looked like he was somebody. He approached me with a hand held out and a closed-mouth grin. His shake was firm, almost painful, but he released my hand quickly.