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"Listen, listen." he said. pleading, "I really was getting ready to contact you. In the meantime. I was working behind the scenes to be sure Linden had the best medical attention possible if he needed anything, and to be sure your mother was all right."
"Why behind the scenes?" I fired back. "You're a grown man, a successful attorney. You led me to believe you weren't affected by the glitz and the opulent wealth down here and you had just as little respect as I did for the pompous asses who parade about as if they were some sort of gods and
goddesses."
"That's true. It's still true. but..."
"But what?"
"Look," he said, stepping closer. "you have to compromise a little to succeed in this world. Willow. Those who won't, who insist on standing on high principles and won't compromise, are just as snobby."
"What?" I smiled incredulously. "Highly principled people are snobby?'"
"That's right, There's another sort of arrogance, an arrogance of being right, of being perfect, of intolerance. Rich people can be pitied. too. For their failings, their insecurities, their imperfections," he added quickly before I could laugh or even widen my smile of incredulity at such a thought.
I wasn't going to. The truth was. I did pity people like his parents far more than I hated them or, of course, envied them.
"The successful person in this world is the one who knows how to compromise in such a way that he or she holds onto enough self-respect to enjoy the success. It's a matter of proportion, diplomacy, negotiations." he lectured.
"How does any of that justify your sneaking about your own property even to speak to me?" I threw back at him.
He sighed and shook his head.
"Look. it might not be obvious to you, but I do have a rather fragile family, especially when you consider my sister and her situation. My parents put up a good facade, but my father especially is carrying a great burden on his shoulders.'
"What burden, the supply of champagne?"
"Ridicule if you want, but you're not the only one with a troubled past and present. My sister's marriage has been on the rocks for years. Her husband isn't as successful as he makes out to be. There's a lot you don't know, Willow. I saw no reason to add my dark shadows to your own house of dreads," he said, softening his lips. I had told him of Amou's sayings and ways. His using the expression did quell the flames of fury in my chest, if not put them out altogether.
"And then, all of this, these revelations about you and Grace. and Linden's actions... all of it coming at us so fast and so furiously... it takes time to adjust, to accept, to understand." he continued in a voice of pleading. "Despite how it looks, there is a very orderly, disciplined life here, at least for me."
I stared at him. How reasonable he sounded, how perfectly, damnably reasonable.
"I keep forgetting what a good trial attorney you are. Thatcher Steven Eaton, even though it's usually a trial over bad kitty litter or something similar," I said, and he laughed.
"Hey, don't knock it. It pays the bills and then some."
I took a deep breath and looked away. Was he right about it all and the way he had behaved? I wanted him to be right. I needed him to be right. Did that make me weak? Was I willing to delude myself, accept lies so I could be happy, just like so many people here, so many people I knew, especially my adoptive mother? If there was anyone I didn't want to resemble, it was she.
I hated how I continually analyzed myself, but I couldn't help thinking I would always be weak when it came to facing a strong, confident man. Analysts would tell me I was constantly searching for a father figure.
Thatcher stepped closer, practically touching me. I turned away from him, afraid of looking into those beautiful eyes and weakening.
"You've got to believe I suffered, knowing that you were alone out there, dealing with all your problems without me at your side." he said in a soft, low voice.
I spun on him.
"Then why didn't you just call... just call me once!"
"I thought you would be on your way back sooner," he said. "Especially with Linden still in the hospital and all."
'That's such a lot of... hooey, Thatcher," I snapped back at him.
He stared at me.
"You're just fishing for excuses to rationalize your inaction. Your objections are too flimsy, counselor. They're overruled."
He nodded, then pressed his lips together and took on a different look, a darker look.
