“Where are the pots and pans?” asked Valerie.
“All the cooking takes place in the downstairs work kitchen,” he explained. “This is the entertainment kitchen.”
“Oh.”
The show kitchen merged into a living zone dominated by huge bouclé sectional couches grouped around a low table of reclaimed driftwood with a book of tree portraits and an assortment of white pillar candles that smelled like a high-end perfume counter nestled in mounds of turquoise pebbles. On the wall was a massive painting of a summer landscape made of overlapping spheres.
Nico saw her looking. “The art service changes that out once a month to another work from Penny’s gallery.”
Valerie nodded, a little distracted because her attention had been commandeered by the floor-to-ceiling windows framing the lake as if the view itself was another thing to be enclosed, commodified, and admired as one’s own. She dared Tourism Ontario to find a more sublime scene to feature on their website. The deep green of the pines contrasted with mottled gray stone that rose in smooth curves from blackwater that sparkled in the sun. A single white Mariposa chair waited in noble solitude at the end of the dock by the boathouse, ready for its owner to take their throne over the domain of water, stone, and trees. In the distance sounded a faintthwump-thwumpas a helicopter passed by.
“Holy shit,” said Valerie. This wasn’t the classiest thing that had ever come out of her mouth, but the view deserved nothing less.
Then came the attack she’d been worried about since arrival, and so unexpected it made her jump.
“Nico! How sweet of Roger to let you bring your girlfriend.”
“Girlfriend?” she whispered to Nico, looking around to see where the woman’s voice was originating.
He seemed unusually flustered and she liked how it looked on him. Nico was normally so even-keeled and serious that it was a kick to see his cheeks get pink. However, she could only admire this for a moment because the door opened to reveal a scene worse than the lions of her imagination. Penny Badgerton-Willis stood revealed in her full glory, dressed in a flowing gray cover-up and holding a flute of sparkling wine that Valerie assumed would be champagne and not prosecco. Valerie instinctively stepped closer to Nico, no doubt inadvertently confirming the girlfriend thing.
Penny lifted the brim of her straw hat and tilted her rectangular sunglasses down to see better. “And who do we have here?”
“Penny, this is Valerie,” said Nico. “She’s not…”
Penny gave a little wave to silence him and stepped forward. “I’m Penny Badgerton-Willis. You may call me Penny.” She bestowed this privilege like a gift, then leaned in to stare into Valerie’s face. Her own had been massaged to a lymph-free smoothness. “Have we met?”
Valerie put on her biggest, friendliest smile. “Thank you so much for having me but I’m not…”
“You said it’s Valerie?” Her hostess apparently had an allergy to letting people finish. “What’s your last name?” Penny’s gaze skippedfrom Valerie’s hair down to her sandals. Should she have left her shoes off? She tried to look surreptitiously at Penny’s feet.
“Peng, and I should mention…”
“What do you do, Valerie? Wait. Peng?” Penny’s social smile was fading fast and Valerie wondered if she’d made the connection between the Valerie Peng in front of her and the Valerie Peng she’d threatened to sue into oblivion a few days ago. “How do you spell that?”
“It’sP-E-N-G.” Roger finally appeared and Valerie felt intense relief that she could off-load this conversation to someone more equipped to deal with it. “She’s not Nico’s girlfriend. I asked him to bring Valerie up.”
Penny’s face blanched. “Dear God, tell me she’s not yourfriend. How old is she?”
Valerie gave a little squeak of alarm. She might prefer the WWE slaps after all. Nico took a small step forward and she desperately wanted to duck behind him.
“Don’t be disgusting. Valerie isn’t anyone’s girlfriend.”
“Then why is she here?” Penny spoke as if Valerie wasn’t in the room with them.
Roger smiled at Valerie, making her feel as if they were in this together. “Well, uh. She’s my daughter.” He stumbled a bit over the word, then coughed.
It was in this moment that Valerie realized she hadn’t been entirely sure if Roger was serious about going through with this whole fake-daughter thing. Her stomach dropped, knowing there was officially no backing out of this journey that could take her anywhere.
Penny paused, then forced a laugh, as if an important client made a slightly off-color joke. “Really, Roger. That’s too much even for your usual juvenile humor, and not very nice for poor Nico’s little friend.” She gave Valerie a pitying half smile.
“It’s not a joke,” said Roger. “When I asked if you knew about whatI found in Dad’s files, I said I thought I had a daughter. It turns out I do. Or me and Yvette do. Valerie.”
Penny gave Valerie a narrow searching look and she didn’t know whether to appear solemn or cheerful. She suspected the resultant hybrid expression made her look ill. “Valerie Peng,” Penny said slowly. “The incompetent planner for Dad’s memorial.”
“I’m very sorry for what happened,” Valerie whispered, her mouth dry.
Penny’s face was tight. “Roger, I’d like a word with you. In private. The girl can stay here with Nico.”
