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But the door opens. A smiling older woman holds her arms out. She is dressed to the nines in a silk blouse and skirt that, on anyone else would look like office attire, but on her, I suspect it’s her loungewear. Instantly, I have the impression that her ash blond hair would not be moved by the Boston breeze. Despite her snooty exterior, the warmth in her voice is unmistakable. “Anderson.”
“Mom, hi,” he says as he hugs her.
She looks over his shoulder at me, beaming. “And you must be June.”
I smile and nod, unsure of what to say at the moment. She releases him, then scoops me in for a hug. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. West.”
She takes my hand. “Please, you must call me Kitty. Come in and meet the family.”
“The family?” Anderson asks as he closes the door behind us.
“Well, when Elliot told me you were finally bringing a girl home, I assumed it was serious and that she should meet everyone.”
I keep my face in a permanent smile, but it’s strained. “Everyone?”
“Yes, of course, dear. This way.”
I glance back at Anderson with my heart in my throat, and he gives a sheepish shrug. Neither of us expected this kind of reception, but it’s not as though we can do anything to stop it.
The penthouse is a mix of old world and modern, with hardwood floors throughout and vast windows to absorb every possible view. Pops of blue show up in the occasional blue stripe or the overstuffed dining chairs. Everything else is beige or white. It’s lovely, but frosty. Certainly not the kind of place to raise a son with a soul. No wonder he was so mean as a child.
But it seems incongruous with the sweet woman dragging me behind her and rambling about the architecture as I try to seem interested. She name drops designers as we walk, and though I do not know who these people are, I know enough to sound fascinated. The place must be three or four thousand square feet big, maybe larger. I cannot fathom how much it cost, but easily near ten million to be this palatial in this neighborhood.
Then we reach the living room. And I’m surrounded.
Dozens of people turn their gaze to us, and before long, Kitty is introducing me to Quincy, Heathcliff, Marylin, Theodora, and so many, many more. I cannot keep them all straight, and Anderson gives me a pained smile as he gets us both cocktails. When he delivers mine, he teases, “Mom, do you think she will remember everyone’s names? Come on.”
“Of course not,” she says, smiling and rolling her eyes, “but your cousins came all the way from Brookline to be here, so I’m introducing her to everyone. It’s just polite.” She leans in closer. “It’s the Mackenzies you should take note of, June. They aren’t cousins—they’re just friends, and they own the best boutiques in Boston and New York. Get in with them. You’ll never dress out of season the rest of your life.”
Oh, no. Did I commit some faux pas? “Is what I’m wearing okay?”
“I meant nothing by it. But aren’t you a dear for worrying? No, you look terrific.” If anyone else had said that to me, I would have thought it was an insult, but Kitty clearly doesn’t have a mean bone in her body. Where the hell did Anderson get it from? “All I mean to say is, they will take care of you, if I let them. They love to dress the family. Oh, and speaking of the family …” she gazes over my shoulder.
Anderson’s expression had been tight before. It’s practically cement now.
I turn to see who has joined us, and in an instant, I know. The severe man stalking into the room is Elliot West. Has to be. He looks too much like Anderson not to be his father. This is where he gets his harshness. The man’s very step stiffens my spine, no matter how relaxed I pretend to be.
“Dad. Meet June.”
When he takes my hand to shake it, ice travels through my arm and down my spine. “A pleasure to meet you, Mr. West.” Not sure if I’ll get the chance to stop lying tonight.
Chapter 29
JUNE
“Call me Elliot, please. So nice to meet you, June.” His eyes flicker at Kitty.
“Let’s let them get acquainted, Anderson. I need your help in the kitchen.”
Anderson’s pained smile deepens. “Alright then, Mom. Be right back.”
Why don’t I believe that?
“Come with me, June. I’ll show you the study,” Elliot says, smiling. But his smile never makes it to his eyes.
I’m about to get grilled. This is what we’ve prepped for, and this is why I spent the last two days googling the hell out of Elliot West. I’ve boned up. Now it’s time to see if my hard work pays off.
God, I hope it pays off.
