tending to me, Mom can also conveniently take a break from playing the part of Royal Rossi daughter. My dad and Marissa ended up taking a flight down to Arkansas to see their potential trap, skipping out on the race-day festivities to go play in the dirt like they both would rather do anyway.
“Thanks.” I unroll silverware from the napkins already placed on the table. “Was my lack of sustenance today that obvious?”
She shakes her head. “Only to your mother. Remember, I nursed you through a bout of chicken pox, too many cases of strep throat, and who knows how many stomach bugs. I’m the only one here today who knows what you look like when you’re exhausted and you haven’t eaten.”
“Good. At least I played the part well. I wouldn’t want Grandfather to send me one of his letters,” I mutter.
My grandfather has a penchant for letter writing, something he’s especially prone to when unhappy with his family’s conduct. My mother claims that those letters are another reason she always hated the world of racing. Imagine being a petulant teenager forced to spend the day at a high-profile race with your emotionally distant father, then getting a four-page letter from him a week later, detailing all the ways he felt you screwed up. Not exactly a good way to quell your daughter’s abandonment issues.
Sometimes I wonder why my mom continues to show up at this race every year, just because her father instructs her to, when she’s a sixty-year-old woman who has amassed her own fortune and needs nothing from him that he can give her. Family is a powerful thing though. Even when we think we don’t want or need those bonds, or when those tethers sometimes feel like chains, we never stop hoping that someday things will change.
She smiles gently. “He would never. You’re much better suited to doing what’s asked of you. You’re agreeable, even when you want to be doing something else entirely.”
I let out a little huff. A few months ago, I would have taken that as a compliment. Today I’m thinking there’s something about that easygoing trait that needs a little unpacking. Maybe then I wouldn’t be as amenable to doing what’s asked of me all the time, just so I don’t disappoint anyone. What’s ironic is that I think I have Sage to thank for this new introspection—a woman whom I stood by and watched walk away, without bothering to put up a fight. Although thinking about all those times I’ve chosen to be agreeable reminds me of a little business my mom and I need to discuss.
“Maybe I can get you to be agreeable to something then. Because there’s something I hope you’ll do just because I asked.” She raises a questioning brow. I look her squarely in the eye. “Fire Tate Marshall.”
Mom looks surprised but only for a moment. Then her expression hardens almost immediately. “Tell me everything.”
I do. It only takes about five minutes because when I get to the part about what he said at the bar, Mom puts her hand up in the air to stop me.
“I’ll have HR put together a case file. He’ll be gone by the end of the week,” she says firmly, then looks around the room. “Where is Sage? Don’t tell me she left because Tate said something else to her last night. If he did, I’ll need to talk to her. I want to document everything with HR.”
I shake my head. “Wesley Wells had a heart attack last night. Sage flew out on a redeye so she can be there for his surgery today.”
My mother’s face slackens. It doesn’t take long for her to regain her composure though. It happens so fast that I fully expect her to forget what I just said and return to business form, which will probably involve asking me to do something I’m not going to be able to do.
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure it was very difficult for Sage to get a phone call like that and be so far away.” She presses her lips into a thin line and frowns. “Now, explain to me why you’re here. After what I saw of you two yesterday, you should be with her.”
The bite of risotto I just took turns to glue in my mouth. I labor to swallow it before answering.
“I tried to go with her. She didn’t want me there.”
She scans my expression for a moment before pinning me with a look I