True Places(42)

Suzanne would give to Iris. And because the girl was so different, perhaps Suzanne could discover where she had gone wrong, discover how her family, which was once imbued with more promise than she could have imagined, seemed to be held together by the fact of their relationships and by the force of her will rather than by shared goals and mutual respect.

She would give to Iris and hope for the gift of insight in return.





CHAPTER 19

Whit ran up the front stairs, exhilarated by the success of his afternoon. The enormous tract of land he’d been vying for—over a hundred acres right outside of town—was nearly his. Last week the deal had looked shaky; the landowner, a farmer whose family had worked the land for generations, had gotten cold feet, and had begun fantasizing that his sons would change their minds about their white-collar jobs in Richmond and Annapolis and take up farming, as he’d always hoped they would. The only answer to equivocation, especially this late in the acquisition process, was more money. Whit was confident the package would hold together. Hell, they were going to walk away with more than any other residential deal in the area’s history—but no one wanted to dip deeper into their pockets, even if all it required was a bit more leveraging. But he had calmed everyone down and gotten the key player on board: his new buddy Robert Shipstead. The rest had followed as he’d known they would. Business was relationships. It had never been clearer.

He went inside and dropped his briefcase at the foot of the entry table, steadying the sloping mountain of mail on its surface. He felt a pinch of exasperation but pushed it aside and strode through the dining room, where the mess from some school project still hadn’t been cleaned up after two days. Thank God they were going out.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He winced at the state of the kitchen and, worse, the state of his wife. She held a mixing bowl in the crook of her arm and scooped the contents into a pan. Her hair had fallen out of the clip, and she puffed it away from her face. Her shirt was splattered with tomato sauce.

“Hi. How did your day go?”

“Fantastic. But we have dinner with Robert and Juliette. And Malcolm and Mia, remember?” Whit kept his tone light.

She froze, spatula held aloft. “Oh, crap. The social worker came by and I got behind. How much time do I have?”

“Ten minutes to be on time.”

“I can do it.” She dumped the rest of the pasta in the pan, set the bowl in the sink, grabbed the container of shaved Parmesan, and tossed a handful on top. She punched the controls on the wall oven and slid the pan in, then punched some more to set the timer. As she returned the perishables to the fridge, she said, “Whit, please let Reid know he needs to look out for Iris. And tell Brynn the pasta will be ready in thirty minutes.” She glanced around her. “And the kitchen needs to be cleaned up before we get back.”

“Brynn has to clean up?”

“No, the three of them should work it out.” She was already on her way upstairs.

Whit followed. “What’s the bribe?”

Suzanne laughed and shook her head. “I’ve got nothing. Appeal to their sense of fairness and duty.”

“I’ll put three tens on the counter.”

“Two. We haven’t made Iris into a capitalist yet.”

They arrived at Triomphe only five minutes late and, critically, before Robert and Juliette arrived. The ink wouldn’t be dry on the deal for another month, so every meeting was a presentation, an opportunity to shore up the deal. Usually this felt like pressure, but tonight it could not have been easier. Whit was on the cusp of becoming the person he’d always dreamed he might be. He could never quite relax when the kids were small, leaving the whole family vulnerable. One bad stomach bug could upend a week’s worth of plans. Maybe they weren’t out of the woods yet, but Whit could see the light coming in from the clearing. Brynn was learning to drive. The milestones were spreading out, and his career was gaining momentum at just the right time. It was a great feeling.

The three couples sat at a round table, away from the noise of the bar. Malcolm and Mia were in top form, meaning Mia was on the charming side of outspoken and Malcolm did nothing to provoke her. The food, as always, was superb, and the wines—Whit deferred to Robert on this—were delicious. And Suzanne? Well, no woman in the world could look so beautiful with only ten minutes’ prep time. She wore a simple orange silk dress and the silver hoop earrings and bangles he’d given her last Christmas. She had piled her hair on top of her head and allowed a small wave to fall from each temple. Her eyes, those gorgeous brown eyes, caught the light whenever she looked his way.

Mia, on his left, touched his elbow and leaned in a little, confiding. “She’s exhausted, you know.”

“She looks fantastic.”

“Well, yes. It’s Suzanne. But believe me, she’s exhausted.”

“We all are. Isn’t that a badge of honor these days?”

She rolled her eyes. “Even you probably noticed there are three kids in your house now.”

“Even me?”

Mia sped right by. “What do you think of her?”

“Iris? She’s quiet. Sleeps a lot. Her manners are worse than mine.”

She nodded. “She’s like an extremely fast toddler.”

“Suzanne must’ve told you that I wasn’t crazy about the whole Iris deal.”