In the Age of Love and Chocolate (Birthright #3)(69)

Mr. Delacroix whispered to me, “You don’t have to let yourself be baited. This is going very well. Everything that needs to be said has already been said.”

I am certain it was good advice.

I stood and went up to the podium. “Yes, it is true. My father was Leonyd Balanchine. He was a mobster and he was a good man. He went to sleep one day, and when he woke up, the business his family was in had become illegal. He spent his whole life trying to figure out how to run a chocolate business legally, but he never could. He died trying. When I became an adult, I took up the cause. I did not have a choice. Mr. Chairman, you say that the difference between cacao and chocolate is little more than a ‘term of art.’ And I suppose this is true. The fact is, I would not have gone into cacao if not for who my father was, and so the connection to chocolate is there. As much as I have tried to in my life, I cannot escape it. But what I know—what I know in my soul—is that the club is good for New York. We who work there want nothing but the best for the public. We are not motivated by money or the desire to trick the system. We are citizens who want our city to be healthy and safe, to have sensible laws that protect the people. I am a mafiya daughter. I am my father’s daughter. I am a daughter of New York.”

I was about to sit, but then I decided I had even more to say. “You shut down the club because you thought there were people in there without prescriptions. Well, I don’t know if this is true, but what I do know is that there shouldn’t have to be prescriptions. The city or this board should grant any establishment that wants to serve cacao a cacao license, and that should be the end of that. You want less crime? Make it so there are less criminals.”

And then I really was done.

* * *

The board voted to allow the Dark Room to remain open: seven yeas, two nays, and two abstentions. There would not be a criminal case brought against me.

I shook Mr. Delacroix’s hand.

“You ignored my advice,” he said.

“I ignored some of your advice. But thank you anyway for being there to give it.”

“Well, I won’t make the mistake of ignoring yours. If I manage to become mayor, I will look into amending the Rimbaud laws in the city.”

“You’d do that for me?”

“I’d do that because it is the right thing to do. Now go celebrate. Your sister and my son are waiting for you.”

“You won’t come with us?”

“I wish I could, but the campaign calls.”

I shook his hand again. And he put both his hands around mine. “This may sound condescending, but you know that I have come to think of you as my daughter. And it is in this context that I find myself wanting to say how very proud I was of you today.” He stood up straight. “Go have some fun, will you? I am very much rooting for a happy ending when it comes to that loyal boy of mine and you.”

“How sentimental.”

“I am certainly more invested in the outcome of this little high school romance than I ever thought I would be. But I care about the characters, and forgive me for wanting everything to turn out for the plucky heroine.” He leaned down and kissed the top of my head.

* * *

We went to dinner at a new restaurant near Penn Station. “I didn’t expect to see you two at the hearing,” I said to Natty and Win.

“My father called me,” Win said. “He told me he was going to be representing you and that you could use support. I asked him what I could do to help you, and he said that I should get on a train to New York and round up as many people as I could find who might have kind words to say about the club and you.”

“That must have been hard.”

“It wasn’t. Almost everyone I called was willing to come. Theo helped me. Dad thought the hearing would become a referendum on what people thought of you.”

“My character.”

“Yes, your character. That if the city believed you were good, they would believe the club was good.”

“And you dropped everything to do this?”

“I did. You probably think less of me.”

“Win, I am older now. I take help when it is given, and what’s more, I say thank you.” Hadn’t I learned that lesson six hours ago?

I leaned across the table, and since I was feeling in high spirits, I kissed him on the cheek. How long had it been since I had kissed that boy?

I should say, that man.

Just on the cheek, friendly-like, but still.

Natty began to chatter about a project involving the extraction of water from garbage. She’d been working on this for years. It was probably going to save all of us, but I wasn’t paying any attention.

Win smiled at me, a bit ruefully.

I smiled at him—Don’t read into this.

He cocked his head at me and I felt like I could read his mind—Are we going to do this?

I shook my head and shrugged my shoulders a little—I still don’t know.

He put his hands on the table, palms up—Hurt me. Go ahead and try, my girl. I’ve got the thickest and the thinnest skin imaginable when it comes to you. I’m half rhinoceros, half baby bird.

I folded my hands in my lap—I’m old, Win. I’m a widow. I’m beaten up. I’m a little scared to try this again. The last time was disastrous. Don’t you like being friends? Don’t you like sitting here civilly, smiling at each other and having dinner? Are you so eager to sign up for another round of pain? Being with me has never made a single person happy. Not for very long at least. I think I’m good alone. And why do people need to be in couples anyway?