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“I met him at an exhibition of wildlife photography in London. His work was being honored.” She released an impassioned sigh. “His photos were amazing.”
“You had an affair with a photographer.” Harper didn’t know what to think. She had little trouble imaging her mother dallying with a duke or an Italian prince while in London, but a wildlife photographer?
“He was exciting and handsome and I couldn’t get enough of his stories of Africa. He actually lived in the bush for ten months to get one particular shot of a group of lions.”
Harper couldn’t stop herself from drawing a parallel between her fascination with Ashton’s adventures and her mother having an affair with someone who lived dangerously. Harper winced away from the comparison, dismayed to think she was more like her mother than she’d ever imagined.
“When did you have this affair?”
“Your father was out of the country a great deal.”
“Before you split.” Is that what had caused her mother to go to Florida? Had she been banished for being unfaithful? That seemed awfully unfair considering her husband’s rampant infidelities. “Did Daddy know?”
“Not at first. I was very discreet. But in the end he figured it out.”
“Why did you and father stay married when that’s obviously not what either of you wanted?”
“What makes you think either of us wanted a divorce? Your father married me to cement a deal for Henry to buy my family’s hotels. It was never a love match. I received security in exchange for ignoring all his affairs. It wasn’t as if he intended to marry any of those women he slept with.” Penelope sipped at her wine. “As for my brief indiscretion—” her mother offered an indifferent shrug “—I was out of the country and I knew I’d never see him again.”
Yet thirty years later keeping the affair from being revealed was worth a million dollars. Was it just her mother’s overdeveloped sense of propriety at work or was there something more going on?
“How brief an indiscretion was it?” Curiosity overpowered Harper as she tried to imagine her mother as young, impulsive and happy. All three were a stretch.
Penelope shot her a repressive frown. “What does it matter?”
How could her mother not understand how fascinating Harper found all this? Harper’s whole life she’d had this image of her mother as the victim of Ross Fontaine’s adulterous wandering. Suffering because her pride or a sense of honor kept her from divorcing the man who made her miserable.
“I’m just having a hard time picturing you...” Harper couldn’t think of a way to say what was on her mind without it sounding like an insult.
“Engaging in a torrid affair?” Penelope spat out the words as if they tasted bad.
“I was going to say happy.”
The diamond on Penelope’s left hand sent out spikes of color as she waved away Harper’s explanation. “Happy is overrated.”
Was it? Harper considered her own life. Was she happy? Content maybe. Unless she compared herself to Violet and Scarlett and then she looked positively miserable. Being in love had certainly given her sisters a glow.
But it wasn’t just being in love, for often love didn’t last in a relationship. It was the fact that they’d found the other half of themselves. It wasn’t something Harper had imagined for herself. Her ideal life involved a large executive office in Fontaine’s New York City headquarters, rising profits, a cover article in Forbes. She didn’t think in terms of a private life. She couldn’t imagine having the energy to navigate the unpredictable waters of a serious relationship.
Once again her thoughts drifted to Ashton Croft and the awareness that spiked through her every time they occupied the same room. Regret rubbed at her. As much as he irritated her as a businessman, she was wildly attracted to the adventurous chef. If her responsibilities didn’t weigh her down, she wouldn’t hesitate to take those dimples of his for a spin.
“I don’t see anything about this situation worth smiling over,” Harper’s mother stated, her voice sharp and impatient.
Harper pushed Ashton out of her mind and resumed her mask of professionalism. “You’re right. There isn’t.”
“How soon can I get the money?”
“First thing tomorrow. What are we supposed to do? Gather the cash in a briefcase and drop it off at the bus station?”
Harper was struck with untimely amusement by the idea of her mother setting one Manolo-clad toe in such a place. But the urge to laugh vanished abruptly as she recalled Ashton’s assessing gaze earlier. In all likelihood he had the same opinion about her. Worse, he’d be right. She’d never been to a bus station or ridden a bus. She’d spent her whole childhood in New York City and had only used the subway once.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” her mother said. “The money is to be wired. I’ve been given an account.”
“That’s safer.” And she’d bet Scarlett’s fiancé had a team of computer experts that could track the money to its final destination. “Give me the account number and I’ll take care of everything.”
Four
“Wow, boss.” Dae’s white grin split his tanned face as he toured Batouri’s kitchen. “Nice place you got here.”
