I swing the box around so the front is facing me and open the small white notecard on the top.
My heart stops.
I hold the card to my chest, concealing it from Trish, who is staring at me like a puppy waiting for a treat. “Um… Yes, these are from my husband. Thank you, Trish. That’s all.”
Disappointed she can’t see what’s inside, Trish slumps her shoulders and closes the door behind her as she exits my office.
I put my hands on the top of the box and open the lid. Inside is a bed of the purest white roses I’ve ever seen. I pick up some of the stems and breathe them in. They subdue my senses.
I look down and count about three-dozen roses. They are devoid of thorns and cut to a perfect height. I lift a large bunch and see there is something beneath them. I move more stems to the side, and lying on a bed of white petals on the bottom of the box is a black umbrella with an intricate antique, white pearl handle. It’s beautiful. I laugh to myself, thinking of the day’s events.
What an exhausting day. I can’t wait to get home and see Jackson.
Home.
There is no way I am bringing white roses home. That is a conversation I am not willing to have with Gabriel.
I grab the box and my bag and walk out of my office and stop at the reception desk. “Trish, you should take these.” I place the box on the upper counter of her desk. “I don’t have a vase or anywhere to put them, and I have such a long commute. Take them home.”
Flattered, Trish takes the box and opens it. “Oh, Kathryn, these are rare. Really rare and expensive. Really expensive! I can’t take these.” She closes the box. “The graphics team will be here this weekend. Maybe I’ll keep them here in the front. Help take the sting out of having to work on a Saturday.”
“That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.” I can tell this girl is a good egg. I hope Heather is easy on her. Lord knows we could all use a little saving grace around here.
“Your mother’s here,” Gabriel calls out from the kitchen window. He’s peering through the blinds while drying his hands on a dishtowel. Tossing the towel over his shoulder, he walks over to the island and pours gin into two glasses – a martini glass for her, a lowball for him.
My mother, Gwendolyn Grayson, lives for a good time. If there’s a party, she’s there. When I was a kid, she would rent out halls, have soirees, and wear the most elegant dresses as she mingled with her closest friends and family. She frequented nightclubs and went to every fundraising luncheon she was invited to. And she showed up with bells on. Literally. One year, she went to a holiday party wearing a red silk taffeta gown with a marabou fur cape lined with reindeer bells.
She can’t balance a checkbook, but she can figure out a way to get the senator to come to the ribbon cutting at the local nail salon. She once had the face of Elizabeth Taylor, Sofia Lauren’s body, and the flair and style of Zsa Zsa Gabor. Gwendolyn was a fierce woman in her youth, and everyone loved to have her around, especially my dad.
Frank Grayson, also known as “Catch”, was a pitcher in the big leagues. He was on the road a lot, but when he was home, he was the best dad in the world. He escorted Gwen to her events. Not because he enjoyed them. He went because they were important to her. His life revolved around Gwen. That’s probably why when cancer took him from us, she locked herself in her room for days.
I was thirteen at the time and spent my formative years taking care of my mother. She was too flighty and irresponsible to be left alone. She stopped going to as many functions and moved us to upstate New York where her family is from. The fresh air in the mountains is nice, but as soon as I graduated college, I moved back to Manhattan and felt like I could breathe again for the first time in years.
As Gwen’s car pulls into the driveway, I grab Jackson and head to the foyer to greet her. Gabriel is right behind us.
“Happy Birthday!” I shout as I open the front door.
“Let me see my beautiful family!” Gwen throws one arm up and over Gabriel’s shoulder as the other swings around, enveloping Jackson and me. She is wearing a flowing pink pantsuit with a floral overlay that sashays as she walks. She makes a dramatic gesture with her arms so the fabric dances in the air as she talks. “Oh, I missed you so much. You make it worth the three hours on the thruway.”
“You look beautiful today.” Gabriel leans in and kisses her cheek, always the charmer.
“When do I not?” Gwen winks at him and nudges her elbow into his stomach. They both share a laugh as she leans over and gives Jackson a loud kiss on the cheek. “And there is my grandson! You’ve gotten so big.”
Jackson buries his face in my chest, then looks up through his long lashes he inherited from his father and gives his grandmother a flirtatious look.
“Oh, you are going to be a killer with the ladies, Jackson! Stay close to Grandma and I’ll teach you how to win over every heart in town.” Gwen walks straight toward the kitchen where Gabriel has the martinis lined up.
“Drink for the birthday girl?” Gabriel asks Gwen, adding a few olives to make hers extra dirty.
“You know it, kid.” She takes the martini and clinks her glass against his. “Look at my son-in-law, the lawyer. All the girls at the club are just jealous that I have a lawyer in the family.”
Ah, the ultimate bragging rights for any parent. If your child couldn’t be a doctor or a lawyer, then you must at least make sure everyone knows they were smart enough to marry one. That or a major celebrity. Gwen would have taken either.
“Don’t you roll those eyes at me, young lady.” Gwen takes a sip. “I brag about you too. You and your big TV career.”
“Kat is currently working on a concert program,” Gabriel says to Gwen before turning his attention to me. “You should tell your mom when it’s airing so she can watch.”
A huge smile crosses my face. It’s the first encouraging thing Gabriel has said about me returning to work. Maybe he’s settled into the idea since the first week was a success.
Gwen puts her drink on the island and claps her hands together, pulling them toward her chin. “I’ll have a viewing party. Oh, how exciting!”
I can see the wheels spinning in Gwendolyn’s head as she plans her next big event. The thought of a Gwendolyn Grayson soiree has me shaking my head. I’m sure her viewing party will be the event of the year.
“So tell me. What has been going on around here? What’s the gossip? Kat, are you making any new friends?” Gwen is as nosey as ever.
Gabriel sees this as his cue to leave, taking Jackson along with him. He knows I hate my mother’s meddling.
“Mom, you know I don’t have any friends here,” I say, walking to the refrigerator and taking out the dinner salad. Every time she comes here she embarrasses me with this topic.
“You moved from the city to raise a family. Now you’re here. You should join the Mother’s Club. You need a network, darling.”
I sigh. Does this woman ever give up?
Gwen leans into me, halting me from moving from my spot by the refrigerator. “Kathryn, you are a wonderful girl with a lot to offer. I don’t understand why you don’t give any of the women out here a chance?”
My shoulders rise as I try to give an explanation. “I don’t know. I just don’t click.” I move around Gwen and walk over to the island.
“Besides, I have Malory. She has been a great friend to me. Between getting me the new job and showing me the ropes…” I say, giving the salad a vigorous toss. I look over at my mother, who is giving me the Gwendolyn Grayson stare down. “What is that face for?”
“I don’t like that girl. She rubs me the wrong way.” Gwen’s hand is on her hip, her lips puckered together.
“Oh, please, Mother. You only met her once. You can’t stand here and say I need friends and then badmouth the first one I talk to you about. Besides, I have a lot of friends. They just happen to live all over the country.” I try to keep my cool, but I can feel my eyes slightly bugging out of my head.