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22
We went into dinner immediately. I’d planned it that way; I figured the less time we had to make small talk, and the sooner we got around to putting food in our mouths, the less time there was for potential disaster.
“It’s nice to have you here,” I told Mr. Templeton as we sat down.
“Thank you for the invitation.”
“I hope it didn’t cause any… friction.”
I wondered if he would know what I meant, since I didn’t want to spell it out.
He knew exactly what I meant. “As it so happens, Vincent, Miranda, and my wife are out of town.”
Connor raised his glass and toasted mischievously, “To things working out for the best.”
I glared at him. Behave.
He just gave me a punk-ass, mischievous little smile in return.
I sighed and turned my attention back to Connor’s father. We chatted a little about inconsequential things as Marta, our maid, brought in the first course.
Mr. Templeton didn’t even acknowledge her, though.
“Thank you, Marta,” I said, annoyed by his rudeness.
“Yes, thanks, Marta,” Connor echoed, then aimed a pointed look at his father.
Mr. Templeton glanced up, realized he was being peer-pressured, and closed his eyes halfway – the aristocratic equivalent of a teenage girl rolling her eyes. Then he smiled perfunctorily at Marta and returned to his food.
I thought maybe by the fourth course, he would be polite enough to thank her without prompting – but no. He was basically a dick throughout.
I had to remind myself that nobody ever said Mr. Templeton was the nicest human on Earth. I was only trying to get Connor to stop seeing him as the devil.
I forgot, though, that it wasn’t Mr. Templeton that Connor regarded as the devil.
“So, Dad,how do you like having a bitch for a daughter-in-law?” Connor asked.
I glared at my fiancé – No hanky-panky for YOU, mister, if you keep THIS up – then tried to salvage the situation with a light little laugh. “Honey, you really shouldn’t talk about me that way.”
“I wasn’t, but let me rephrase: how do you like having a raving psychopath for a daughter-in-law?”
Mr. Templeton didn’t even look up as he cut a piece of lamb chop from the bone. “I don’t.”
Silence.
Connor and I sat there, stunned, as Mr. Templeton ate his piece of meat and sipped his glass of $9000 wine.
Finally Connor spoke. “I didn’t expect you to come out and say it quite that plainly.”
“You’ll find I’m full of surprises.”
“I guess you are. So – what? Has she been razzing you about leaving the toilet seat up?”
Mr. Templeton gave his son a reproachful look. “There have been… issues.”
“What kind of issues?”
“It’s obvious she’s positioning herself to take over the Templeton Group.”
