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His French pretensions aside, I was starting to get a good handle on Maurice. Despite his glamor and cool, nonplussed appearance, he was just like so many other chauvinist men I'd encountered in the finance sector who treated women like accessories. He had barely spoken to me, his actual stepdaughter, at all since arriving in Boston, and only then to inquire about Brandon.
Beside him, Janette just took another long sip from her drink. For the first time in a long time, I felt sorry for her.
"Are you here long?" I asked Maurice, mostly to deflect the criticism from my mother.
Maurice looked at me as if he had just noticed I was sitting at the table, and gave another supremely French shrug. "It depends. These things take time, I cannot say for sure." He looked back at Brandon with a smile. "Enough to enjoy everything this wonderful city has to offer."
"At least a few more weeks," Janette added eagerly. "We will probably go down to New York for a spell so the children can meet my family, of course, but mostly we want to enjoy Boston."
I ground my teeth. Aside from their obvious pandering to Brandon, this was a sore subject. I was permanently iced out from the Chambers clan; my conception out of wedlock, when Janette and my father were only seventeen, nearly cost her membership in that family to begin with. The only part of that life I had ever seen was the small trust fund that Janette had set up––mostly, I think, to avoid any problems with child support payments and to keep my family quiet about me: the dirty little secret.
"We were just in New York yesterday," Brandon volunteered with a worried glance my way. My discomfort must have been written all over my face. "Down visiting Skylar's dad. Her grandmother made this amazing dinner for us."
Janette looked up, her cup poised in midair. "Oh?" she asked with a pretense of casualness that failed miserably. "And how is Danny?"
I clenched the stem of my champagne glass tighter than necessary. "He's fine."
Janette blinked, her big green eyes that mirrored mine blank and innocent. "And is Sarah still cooking those enormous meals? She always did make enough to feed an army. I swear, whenever I stayed in that house, I always gained at least ten pounds."
She chortled at Maurice, who only watched with his typically bored expression. I just sipped my mimosa. I wasn't really interested in hearing her jokes about the family she'd toyed with over and over again. Brandon cleared his throat, pulling the table's attention.
"Do you have any plans other than staying in the city?" he asked. "Poor Annabelle and Christoph can't find the inside of a hotel room that interesting."
The kids' faces perked noticeably when he mentioned their names; Annabelle already looked half in love with Brandon, and Christoph was staring at him like he was a superhero.
Brandon flashed them a toothy grin, and they both collapsed in giggles. Maurice shot a stern look at his children, who immediately straightened up and quieted down. They were clearly well trained; I couldn't help but wonder by what means.
"The children have a nanny to keep them occupied during the day," Janette clarified with a short smile. "But we were considering taking some excursions up the coast. Maine, perhaps. Kennebunkport––isn't that where the Bushes have a place? Brandon, have you ever been there?"
Brandon nodded. "I have, although only once or twice. When I go to the coast, I usually spend my time at the Cape. I have a house there, actually."
Janette's eyes gleamed. "Oh, Cape Cod! Yes, we were considering that as well. It would also be terrific fun to show the children where their ancestors came from." She winked at me as she continued: "My father's family emigrated on the Mayflower, you see. My mother's were mostly Dutch, of course––cousins of the Stuyvesants, actually, but my father's people actually came originally from Massachusetts."
She spread her slender hands over the table and peered around the room proudly, as if the crowded space of the hotel represented the cold rock where the pilgrims originally landed. Beside her, Maurice continued to looked bored, and both Annabelle and Christoph were frowning in confusion.
"Well, you're welcome to come for a visit," Brandon offered cordially as he leaned back to make room for the server, who had just arrived with another round of drinks.
I jerked my head at him. What? He caught my look and winked.
"I may not have it much longer, so we might as well put it to good use," he continued before taking a sip of his coffee. "It would be a good time for Skylar and the kids to get to know each other."
"Oh, that would be wonderful!" Janette exclaimed. "Children, wouldn't that just be wonderful!"
She leaned over to touch Annabelle's shoulder; the girl just looked at the hand, but then looked back at Brandon, eyes shining.
"Oh please, Papa," she addressed Maurice almost formally. "May we go?"
Christoph, who had yet to say anything, also turned to his father with pleading eyes.
Maurice, for his part, no longer looked bored, but extremely interested as he surveyed Brandon. His sharp eyes flickered back and forth between us, as if gauging our connection. Then he gave another Gallic shrug, and sat back in his chair.
"If it is not too much of an imposition," he said as he picked up his espresso cup.
The kids practically jumped out of their seats in excitement. Janette continued to jabber about the possibilities for the trip, while Maurice and I stared at each other with mirrored looks of shock. Somehow, before our eggs had even arrived, my estranged mother, her family, my married boyfriend and I were all scheduled to go to Cape Cod for the upcoming Fourth-of-July weekend.
~
"Are you okay?" Brandon asked later when we were on our way back to the North End.
