Portia stared hard at him and then tossed down the dishtowel she’d held clutched in her hands. “You know, Griffin, you really are a piece of work. You act so superior. You criticize your parents for caring more about money than people, but when it comes down to it, you’re scrambling after Hollister’s money, too.”
“That was the point of this challenge, wasn’t it?” Griffin said past the hot knot of anger choking him. “He wanted us scrambling after him.”
“Maybe he just wanted your attention,” she countered.
“I suppose you think I’m a worthless son for not caring.”
Portia shook her head in exasperation. “Look, it’s not my business.”
“Well, at least we agree on that.” He moved to walk out but then stopped at the last minute. “You never told me who she was having lunch with.”
Portia had turned away from him to face the sink, and before she turned back he noticed that the tail of her shirt was untucked from her pants. And the twist in her hair had come loose and then been hastily repinned. Looking at her from behind, he realized she was more rumpled than he’d ever seen her. Before he had a chance to wonder why, she turned around and offered him a cold smile.
“I thought you knew. She’s having lunch with Sydney Edwards. Your assistant. I’m surprised you didn’t know.” His shock must have shown on his expression because a broad smile cracked the icy beauty of Portia’s face. She looked at her watch with an exaggerated gesture. “In fact, they should be sitting down for lunch right about now.”
Eight
Sydney knew she was outclassed the second she set foot in the River Oaks Country Club. Actually, she knew she was outclassed the second she pulled her aging Civic up to the security gate. River Oaks County Club was one of the most exclusive in the country. The sprawling antebellum clubhouse was built of pale bricks, its grandeur reinforced by oil fortunes and a century of social climbing. None of that intimidated Sydney. She’d spent her whole life being outclassed. The way she saw it, in terms of class and social prestige, pretty much everyone was higher on the totem pole than she was. No point in getting upset about that. When it came to interacting with people beyond her means, she was used to faking it.
When the maître d’ showed her into the dining room where Caro Cain was already waiting, Sydney had to clench her hands around the strap of her purse to hide the faint tremble in her fingers.
But Caro stood up and, rather than shake Sydney’s hand, gave her an air kiss, which somehow managed to be welcoming and dismissive at the same time.
Taken aback, Sydney awkwardly reached out to return the hug, but Caro had already stepped away.
“Um, thank you for inviting me to lunch,” Sydney said.
“Of course!” Caro enthused. “I want to do anything I can to help.”
“I see,” Sydney said as she lowered herself to the cushioned edge of the seat. The second her bottom touched fabric a waiter was at the table filling up her water glass.
“Would you like a glass of wine?” Caro asked, as though she was a hostess rather than merely another guest at the country club’s restaurant.
“Just tea, please,” Sydney answered.
Caro gave the waiter a distant smile. “Another wine then for me and a sweet tea for my guest.”
“Unsweetened,” Sydney quickly corrected her. “I like to keep things simple.”
“Very well.” Caro nodded. “An unsweetened iced tea,” she said to the waiter. Her tone was beleaguered, as if Sydney’s choice was a personal affront to her.
“So,” Caro said when they were alone again. “Now you’re helping Griffin with his search for the girl.”
“Yes.”
“I’m certainly willing to do anything I can to help.”
“Yes, well, the forty-two boxes of household records you sent over have been very informative.”
“I’m so glad,” Caro said, and though her tone was effusive, it lacked true feeling. “Though I’ll admit I was a bit worried about just handing over so much personal information. But I suppose it can’t be helped.”
Caro gave a fragile smile accompanied by a fluttering hand gesture. Sydney had the odd impression that she wasn’t really having lunch with Caro, but rather that she was attending a stage performance. Maybe something by Tennessee Williams, something with a lot of wispy Southern women dripping with family drama. Sydney had never cared for Tennessee Williams. She was more of a Mamet girl, herself.
She couldn’t help wondering if Caro Cain was truly as fragile as she appeared. After the waiter dropped off the drinks, Sydney pulled out her iPad and prepared to take notes.
“I’d like to ask you a few questions,” she began.
Caro pressed her fingertips to her chest, feigning surprise. “Were the household records not enough?”
“There is a lot of information in those forty-two boxes. Searching through them is quite a job. Because we are a bit short on time, I’m sure you can appreciate the need for efficiency.”
Caro delicately brought her napkin up to her eyes as if blotting away fresh tears. “Of course. My dear Hollister could pass at any moment.”
The phrase “my dear Hollister” gave Sydney pause, especially after what Griffin had said earlier about Caro abhorring Hollister. Abhor was a pretty strong word. And perhaps his failing health had softened her emotions.
“Erm…yes, of course,” Sydney hedged, fiddling with the settings on her iPad as she wondered how best to steer the conversation. “If we could just—”
“You don’t like me much, do you?”
Sydney snapped her gaze to Caro’s face. She cringed. “It’s not my place to—”
“I supposed Dalton told you all sorts of horror stories about me.”
“Dalton never really discussed his personal life,” she was able to say honestly.
“Hmm.” Caro took another sip of her wine while pinning Sydney with a cool, assessing gaze. “Then I suppose you’ve just formed your own opinion based on what you think you know about me.”
“I…” Christ, what was she supposed to say to that? “It’s really not my place to have an opinion about you.”
“Nonsense. Everyone has opinions.” Caro waved a dismissive hand and then studied Sydney shrewdly. “I suppose you think I brought this on myself. That I’m as much to blame as Hollister because I turned a blind eye for so many years.” She sighed, staring off into space for a moment. “And maybe I should have left, but I knew he loved me in his own way. Hollister is a great man. But even great men never accomplish great things without the right support system. I told myself I could be that support he needed. Perhaps I fooled even myself.”
Slowly, Caro’s gaze swiveled back to Sydney. Though Sydney met the other woman’s gaze, she had no idea what to say. Honestly, she couldn’t pretend to be sympathetic, but she also couldn’t deny that she understood what Caro meant. Hadn’t she just had a similar thought herself at the office? Not exactly, of course. But similar. That’s what being an assistant was all about. Taking pride in someone else’s work. Helping someone else achieve greatness while being content to stay in the background.
It seemed she could see Caro’s faults so clearly, but perhaps that was because they mirrored her own.
Caro seemed to be waiting for some response, so Sydney spoke, hesitatingly at first. “I can’t speak to your relationship with Hollister. That’s not my place. But I can say this—Griffin also has it in him to be a great man.”
“Griffin?” Caro asked.
“Yes, Griffin.” The surprise in Caro’s voice annoyed her.
“Oh, I’m not disagreeing,” Caro added hastily. “I’m just surprised. You worked for Dalton for much longer. I expected you to be touting his greatness.”
Heat rose in Sydney’s cheeks as she realized her mistake. She had only been Griffin’s assistant for a handful of days, and that’s how Caro would see it. “Of course Dalton is also great,” she fumbled for a response. Something, anything to hide the depth of her involvement with Griffin. “Dalton is incredibly intelligent. And ambitious. And…” Now she was overplaying it. She paused to take a sip of her tea. “I merely meant that I can see greatness in Griffin, too.”
“Yes. I agree.” Caro leveled another one of those cool, assessing stares at Sydney, giving her the feeling that she’d hidden nothing from the other woman but exposed entirely too much.
“Well,” Sydney said with forced confidence. “About those questions I had…”
“Yes,” came a voice from right behind her. “I have some questions, too.”
Sydney’s heart gave a little jump. She knew his voice without having to turn around.
Griffin was here.
She slowly looked over her shoulder. He was standing behind her, just to her right. How much had he heard? More to the point, why was he here? Was he angry with her?
She pasted an ingratiating smile on her face. “Hello, Mr. Cain.”
Her use of his last name must have irritated him because his gaze narrowed slightly. “Ms. Edwards,” he said with a nod. “Mother.” He crossed to Caro’s side and brushed a kiss across her cheek. “You look beautiful, as always.”
Caro offered him a restrained smile. “Hello, dear. I assume you want to join us. We haven’t ordered yet. Shall I have the waiter pull up a chair?”
She was already gesturing when he stopped her with a hand to her arm. “No. Thank you. I’ll take Sydney’s chair. She can’t stay.”
“I can’t?”
“No. You can’t. I need you back at the office.”
“You do?” Nice try, but she wasn’t going to let him bully her, not when she was just starting to feel like she was making real progress with his mother.
“Yes.” He gave her a pointed look. As if she was too dense to get the point. “There’s a lot of work to do today.”