Page 41 of Passion and Privilege

“She’s working on my house,” I chimed in. “It’s a historical home in Sleepy Hollow.”

“I wasn’t aware you and Scott were still friends,” Mrs. Courtwright said. “When he told us last year you guys broke up, we were devastated. I was going to reach out, but I wasn’t sure how it would go.”

“Last year?” Catherine asked.

“He said you guys broke up over Christmas. I was not happy he waited so long to tell us.”

Catherine kept a smile on her face. I could tell it was killing her. “A year and a half ago? That sounds about right.”

“What do you do, Timothy?” Scott’s father asked.

“I run a tech company,” I answered casually. “What do you do?”

“Banking,” he said. “Do you live in New York?”

“I have a residence there, but I spend the bulk of my time in Sleepy Hollow. Where are you from?”

“Michigan.”

“That’s quite a ways away,” I said, filling the pause that followed.

The father shrugged, feigning indifference before replying. “Scott was always looking to get away. He wanted the big city life. Lake Placid will be a good fit for him, though.”

“It’s a nice place,” I said, nodding.

The mother glanced back at Catherine, who was looking more uncomfortable by the second. “You look wonderful tonight, Catherine,” she said, smiling.

“Thank you,” Catherine said nervously.

I could see the compliment, though sincere, wasn’t helping with her discomfort. It was time to step in.

“I completely agree,” I interjected, sliding my arm around Catherine’s waist protectively. The gesture was familiar but also meant to serve as a distraction. “Catherine always looks stunning, doesn’t she?”

The remark staked a subtle claim, one that made the Courtwrights glance at each other briefly before turning their attention back toward me.

“How did the two of you meet?” Mrs. Courtwright asked.

“My house,” I answered.

“Oh, she works for you?” Mr. Courtwright answered.

“I wouldn’t say she works for me,” I said, laughing. “Like I said, I own a home that was in desperate need of restoration. It’s a large home, built at the turn of the century. It’s my ancestral home that has sat empty for nearly twenty years. I was looking for the best carpenter in the area and Catherine came highly recommended. I hired her for the job, and over the course of the project, we’ve become close friends. Very close.”

The story was not false, though it might have been a bit embellished. Despite my attempt to help her relax, Catherine was still struggling with the conversation. Her face had a ghostly pallor, as if she might faint at any moment.

“Oh, how lovely,” Mrs. Courtwright cooed. “And now you’re together. You make a beautiful couple.”

“Indeed,” I replied, giving Catherine’s waist a friendly squeeze. “She and I share a passion for the authentic. She’s one of the most down-to-earth, genuine people I’ve ever met. She’s a breath of fresh air in a world full of people that wouldn’t know genuine if it smacked them in the face.”

A subtle blush colored Catherine’s pale face, a small victory in my mind.

“Well, that’s certainly a nice thing to say,” Mr. Courtwright said with a short chuckle.

“I only speak the truth, sir,” I responded earnestly.

The conversation lulled for a moment, the silence broken by the clinking of glasses and the soft murmur of other partygoers. My comments were subtle digs at their cheating louse of a son. I knew Catherine was picking up on it, even if they didn’t.

A waiter passed by with a tray of champagne glasses. Grabbing two, I handed one to Catherine, hoping that the drink might help her relax and recover from the shock she had just received, learning her ex had been lying for at least a year. Her story was very similar to mine. Both of our exes had been plotting behind our back. I knew that pain.