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Piper’s grip tightens around mine as we walk up the path of pavers. It was selfish of me to ask her to come to this dinner with me, considering not only is this an awkward family situation, but it’s an awkward family situation that also involves her former boss.
I’m not sure I even would have made it this far though if she wasn’t right next to me.
Carl is spending the long weekend at his Hamptons estate, which means this massive mansion isn’t even his primary residence.
I might have money now, but I didn’t grow up with it. Extravagance makes me uncomfortable, and I’m already on edge. I wonder if Carl grew up with money or if he just acclimated to being rich better than I have. I know nothing about his childhood. About his parents—my grandparents. If I have aunts or uncles.
“Roof looks solid,” Piper comments, studying the house. “Do you think he installed it himself?”
I glance over, and she winks. The tension in my chest loosens a little.
“I’ve never gotten the sense he’s one for manual labor.”
“Yeah, me neither.”
We reach the top step. Piper squeezes my hand as I fiddle with the knot of my tie. It feels way too tight, strangling my neck.
“Ready?”
“To get this over with? Absolutely.”
I’m not sure why I’m here.
I owe him nothing. Not as an absentee father and not as a label head.
But I have questions, ones only he has the answers to.
At the very least, this evening will hopefully give me some closure.
Piper rings the doorbell, and the white door swings open only a few seconds later, like someone was waiting on the other side.
A slender blonde woman stands in the doorway, wearing a navy dress with a matching cardigan.
Carl’s wife, I’m assuming. Prim and proper and polite, about as opposite from my mother as a person could possibly be.
She says nothing, just stares at me.
“Hi. I’m Kyle Spencer.”
Piper waves. “Piper Egan.”
She starts, like she’s waking from a daze. “Yes, of course. I know who you are. Nice to see you. And you, Piper. I’m Celeste Bergman.” Celeste sweeps an imaginary piece of hair out of her face, then steps back to open the door wider. “Please, come in. Carl is out on the patio.”
You could fit the whole farmhouse inside the soaring foyer. A huge piano sits in the very center, a spiral staircase winding around the room.
“Beautiful piano,” Piper says. “Do you play?”
“No. The boys did when they were younger.”
I know Carl has two sons. If I’m remembering the small talk we’ve made over the years correctly, they’re both younger than me. One lives in Los Angeles, and the other goes to school in Boston. It’s bizarre, realizing those strangers I’ve heard about are my brothers. That Ihavebrothers. At least with Bailey, I knew she existed all along. Held her as a baby and saw school pictures every year.
Celeste leads us through French doors and out onto a massive stone patio. There’s an outdoor dining table with eight chairs, a full kitchen, and a pool, overlooking a sprawling yard. The Atlantic is visible off in the distance.
Carl is seated in one of the Adirondack chairs along the pool, his cell phone pressed to one ear.
My teeth grind as I watch him talk and grin. Carefree, it appears. Unaffected and unbothered about how this evening might go.
When he spots me, the smile quickly falls off his face. I take a little satisfaction in that at least, especially when he hangs up the call and walks over. We’re right on time, but I’m not surprised he prioritized work over greeting us.
