glances at me with surprise, and her gaze softens.
Our limo moves forward. We’re at the head of the line now. I open the door for Winona and hold out my arm. Side by side, we climb the marble steps.
She’s right about tonight. What a waste of a beautiful evening. Who knows, maybe when I’m sixty I’ll enjoy sitting on blue velvet tufted chairs talking about Honma Beres irons. But probably not. I’m not into golf. I like my sports more active and aggressive. Give me a good hour of grunting, lunging, and sweating on a racquetball court any day. And even I know there’s something a little insane about spending sixty thousand dollars for a set of golf clubs, although we do sell them at Hudson’s.
Right now, I’d like to be driving down a country road in a convertible, with Winona by my side and the warm wind rushing through our hair. Lounging on a beach somewhere in the sun, my fingers intertwined with hers. Or tangled up in my silken sheets, my mouth on hers then kissing my way down to the sweet place between her legs.
Hell, sitting on her tiny, lumpy couch, watching TV on her scratched-up screen would be more fun than this. But I am Raymond Hudson’s son, and I do what needs to be done, not what feels good.
Damn. That’s a hell of a life motto.
Resigned, I lead her into the banquet room. The leaf-green wallpaper is splattered with nineteenth-century hunting scenes, and the wall sconces cast a dim light. It’s uneasily reminiscent of the furnishings in my house. I lecture the board members about not clinging to the past, but I’ve been doing the same thing.
“Your uncle’s here,” Winona murmurs.
I look where she’s pointing and spot my uncle standing by the bar across the room. Our eyes meet briefly, and he waves at me to come over. I turn my back on him.
“So he is. I thought I smelled brimstone and hypocrisy.”
“Blake, my boy!” Earl and his wife Maura burst forth from a crowd of geriatrics. “So glad you could make it! You look more and more like your father every day. You’ve brought your lovely friend. Isn’t she lovely, dear?”
“Stunning.” Maura’s plump, round face is wreathed in smiles.
Earl pumps my hand with sweaty enthusiasm. He smiles a little too widely and for a little too long.
Yes, something’s definitely off. I’ve asked him a couple of times recently if everything’s all right, and he’s assured me that it’s fine, couldn’t be better, just great, thanks for asking. In other words, he’s bubbling over with forced joviality.
As soon as Earl and Maura move off, Winona inclines her head. “Alert, alert. This evening’s weather calls for a gust of pompous blowhard with occasional showers of outdated insults.”
I turn just as my uncle reaches us. He looks sad and tired, the lines in his face deepened. He’s clutching a manila envelope. A legal summons? Weapons-grade anthrax?
He holds out his free hand to shake mine. I stand there with one arm around Winona’s waist and the other hanging by my side, pointedly ignoring his hand.
“Truce?” Uncle Bill says with a wry smile.
“I’ll leave you two to talk.” Winona spins away in an exaggerated pirouette and heads for the bar. I miss the feeling of her warm body pressed against mine, which makes me doubly pissed at my uncle.
“You want a truce, you can start by apologizing to Winona.” I bite out each word with venom. “She hasn’t done jack shit to you, and you used her as a pawn to try to get a reaction out of me in front of the other board members.”
My uncle’s face contorts with anger, then smooths. “I’m sorry,” he says. “It’s the Hudson way. We do what needs to be done. That’s why we’ve grown more successful with every generation.”
“Hudson’s is successful because my father was willing to sacrifice everything to save the company from a thief who, as I recall, was hired on your recommendation.”
Again, that flare of fury swells, but this time it only shows in his eyes. A long moment stretches uncomfortably between us, and I see a muscle twitching in his jaw. Finally he says, “That’s fair. I hope you also recall that I sacrificed quite a bit as well. I sold all but one of my properties and gave up my car collection and lived like a monk for a decade to help repay that debt.”
Oh, poor Uncle Bill, down to only one mansion, two cars and