the bulk of our now-passed grandmother’s considerable fortune, including controlling ownership of the family company).
Now that Grandmother was gone, Eric was the de facto head. Which made Mother and me nothing but poor relations, relatively speaking. I realized that we weren’t exactly in line at the food bank, but considering that De Vries Shipping was valued at something close to twenty billion, my supposed fifty-million-dollar inheritance and the similar amount handcuffed in my trust were paltry in comparison. Mother too had her own, plus the estate near Southampton, but again, neither came close to Eric’s newfound wealth.
I couldn’t lie. When the will was read, I was hurt. Really hurt. Not because of the money. And I loved Eric. I had even come to love his wife. What did I care if my portfolio or theirs expanded by a factor of ten or ten billion? No, it was the fact that in the end, Eric’s last name mattered more than the decade I had spent with our grandmother while he had been off doing God knew what. They say blood runs thicker than water, but in our family, gender trumped all.
My husband, however, definitely cared about the money. After all, it was the reason he married me. And it was why, six months after the will was read, he was still quietly trying to get my other family members to fight it in probate. So far, he hadn’t succeeded.
So, for now, Eric paid the bills. And Mother would want to do what was needed to keep that faucet running, which included sucking up to the new head of family and the wife that no one thought belonged on the Upper East Side.
“Okay, lunch,” I repeated after splashing water on my face and grabbing a towel. “What else?”
“An appointment with Dr. Raleigh at three.”
I dropped the towel. “Is it that time already?”
Moira shrugged. “It’s been six months. You missed your last appointment, and the receptionist called.” She looked up from her list. “Shouldn’t I have made it? I assumed you’d want to look nice for tonight. Not that you don’t always, of course. But since it’s special…”
I frowned into the mirror. “Special how?”
Moira blinked. “Well, since it’s your anniversary, of course.”
We both stilled as my sudden awkward silence landed in the middle of my bathroom like a wet blanket. Moira wasn’t stupid. She had been my assistant for nearly ten years, which meant she understood at least something of the distance between Calvin and me, even if she didn’t know what happened behind closed doors.
“Mr. Gardner’s assistant hasn’t said anything to me about it,” Moira said quietly. “I assumed you were planning something at home. Might be nice not to think about…everything.”
It was her kind way of suggesting I should probably do something to distract from the embarrassingly public trial we were facing in a matter of weeks. And offering to help, should I need it.
I cleared my throat. “Um, yes. I suppose I am. But nothing you need to worry about. Thank you, Moira.”
I leaned closer to the mirror again, more in order to avoid Moira’s gaze than because I really saw anything. I pressed at my skin, eyeing the minuscule, practically nonexistent wrinkles at the corners of my eyes. I didn’t have nearly the work done regularly that many of my friends had. But they also didn’t smile. Or laugh. Or love. And until recently, neither did I.
I love your laugh, doll. That voice again, reprimanding me. Don’t you change a fuckin’ thing.
I stood back from the mirror. Matthew wasn’t the only person who had ever called me perfect.
But in front of him was the only time it had ever felt like the truth. When I had had less sleep than this. When my face was tear-stained and blotchy. When my lips were swollen and hard-kissed.
To him, I was perfect. If only for a moment.
“Cancel the appointment with Dr. Raleigh, please,” I said to Moira as I straightened and picked up the coffee on the counter. “I’ve decided to see what life is like without the needle for a while.”
Moira nodded and made a note. “Very well. Do you have a preference for breakfast?”
I shook my head. I didn’t like much more than coffee before my trainer. “Just a poached egg and grapefruit, please.”
“I’ll be sure it’s in the dining room, Mrs. Gardner. After that I’m taking out the dry-cleaning and then making sure Patricia is available to nanny again this month and in August. We want to have everything