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Winter
NOW
“To my wonderful daughter, happy birthday, darling.” My father, Charles DeLaurie the Third, held up a crystal flute to toast.
“Cheers to one of the last birthdays you’ll actually enjoy getting older,” my mother teased and took a deep swallow of champagne.
I sipped the pink liquid, letting the bubbles dissolve in a tart fizz on my tongue.
We were having dinner at The Dunes country club, in a private room. We never dined at home as a family. For one, the cavernous dining room and mile-long table didn’t exactly suit a cozy family dinner. For another, my parents were so busy, they could only be found in the same room for special occasions. I was lucky my birthday had merited them coordinating their schedules to be here tonight. They hadn’t managed last year.
Soft music played in the background, and the gentle clink of cutlery on fine china from the adjacent dining room filled the silence as we ate.
“So, darling, how is freshman year? Some of the best years of my life were at Hade Harbor University,” Dad reminisced. “Are you enjoying living on campus? Are you sure you don’t want to rent a place nearby?”
“Charles, Winter wants to be like her peers. What is college for if not living in a sorority and having fun?” Mom nibbled at her steamed spinach. After arriving home yesterday from a month-long wellness retreat in India, she had announced she was vegan now.
“She can still have fun with her own place,” Dad pointed out.
“I’m fine on campus. I like the sorority house, and after all, Mom’s a legacy…” I trailed off. Honestly, I couldn’t have cared less about the sorority, but I’d take the sorority house over my own apartment.
Mom nodded. “Zeta Pi Nu prepares young women for life after school. It’s an invaluable experience for a young woman. Let her make her own choices.”
“As long as you’re happy with it, darling,” Dad said, and squeezed my hand.
I lit up for a moment at the touch. His attention was like a beam of sunlight falling on my face, always too fleeting and precious.
“I am.”
“So, there anyone special in your life lately?” Mom asked after a moment, wincing slightly as she took another mouthful of steamed spinach.
“No, no one. I’m not really thinking about dating right now,” I admitted.
Honestly, getting in a relationship with some guy who was just going to disappoint me, or worse, get close to me because I was rich, wasn’t something I was eager to do. People lied and manipulated, and pretended to care, just to benefit themselves in some way. What was even the point?
The point is avoiding the cardboard cutout bankers’ sons your dad fixes you up with.
Right, there was that.
My parents had set me up with a plethora of “suitable” boyfriends, sons of their friends. They had been awful, without exception. They had been less after my money, and more my name and reputation. They were already rich enough to be satisfied with their lives, but having an old, respected name like DeLaurie in the family would be a real boost, not to mention having access to my father’s connections. Hence, at the grand old age of nineteen, I felt done with dating.
“Ah, yes, well. I might have already taken care of that this evening,” Dad murmured, patting my hand.
Wait, what?
A knock sounded at the door, and Dad checked his watch. “Our guests are right on time.” His cheeks were rosy.
“Guests?” Of course, it couldn’t just be family. Of course not.
Dad beamed. I knew in my gut who was coming to visit. Dad was only this excited for one visitor, his old roommate from his college days, Duncan Fitzgerald. My least favorite of all my father’s creepy rich friends. They belonged to the same local members-only club, Invictus H.H Group. Where the rich and privileged of Hade Harbor used their insider connections to get even richer. An investment club you had to be born into to join.
“Uncle Duncan wanted to come and wish you a happy birthday in person.” Dad took a deep slug of scotch and then glanced up expectantly.
The door swung open. Two men entered.
The elder was Duncan. I’d known him my entire life. My belly dropped at the sight of the guy beside him, his asshole son, already smirking. Trent.
I stood. My father’s voice was booming, and so was Duncan’s. The huge dining room suddenly felt crowded. My mother was finishing the champagne off while no one was watching. She hated my father’s old cronies with a passion only dulled by alcohol and impeccable manners.
