Made in Manhattan

Violet instantly softened, feeling guilty for her traitorous thoughts.

Keith continued. “I can’t stand the thought of some money-grabbing outsider taking advantage just because his mom happened to get knocked up by Edith’s son.”

Annnnnd, just like that, her warm thoughts evaporated.

“How delicately put, Keith,” Violet murmured. “And for what it’s worth, from what I’ve seen, Cain isn’t exactly beating on the door of the corner office. I’m not even sure he wants to be here.”

“Yeah, I’m sure having a company and a billion dollars handed to him is a real tough pill to swallow,” he said sarcastically into his glass of wine.

“You’re getting ahead of yourself,” Violet said. “Regardless of Edith’s wishes, the board still has to vote him in.”

Keith looked at her, then seemed to relax for the first time all night. “You’re right. You’re right, of course. The board is loyal to Edith, but not to the point of insanity. They’ll see him for what he is.”

“And what’s that?” she asked curiously.

Keith lifted a shoulder, digging into his meal with enthusiasm now. “He’s not one of us, Vi.”

“Not yet,” she said. “But once I’m through with him…”

He let out a little laugh of disbelief that chafed at her already raw nerves. “You really think you can do it? Get him to fit in?”

She picked up her wineglass and lifted it in a toast with a small smile. “Watch me.”

Four

The day after her lunch with Keith, Violet stood in front of the late Adam Rhodes’s brownstone, preparing to My Fair Lady the heck out of his reluctant son.

She tilted her head back to look at the skinny, three-story building as she absently reached into her bag and scratched Coco’s head. It wasn’t that she’d specifically wanted a dog that fit into her purse. It was more that she’d fallen in love with a dog that had turned out to be just three pounds fully grown and was one tiny, lazy diva.

“You remember this place, sweetie?” she asked the dog. “You took a twosie in the entryway when you were a puppy.”

The dog gave her a baleful look. Mom. Really?

“Our secret. Nobody but us knows,” Violet reassured her, rubbing a thumb over a silky ear. She didn’t tell the dog that the reason nobody but them knew was that Adam and his dinner party guests had been several martinis in at the time, not to mention whatever other substances had made an appearance that night.

Violet thought of the man who lived there now and pursed her lips. Unlike his wastrel father, he didn’t seem the type to relish going through life being completely out of it. In fact, she sensed Cain saw plenty. Too much.

Coco ducked back into the purse, spinning in three tight circles, before curling into a sleepy ball.

Taking a deep breath, Violet made her way up the stairs, stepping carefully in her high heels, since the concrete was cracked and desperately in need of repairs.

She’d been to the home plenty of times over the years. Adam, despite his many, many flaws, had been Edith’s son. And since Edith was practically family, that made Adam family. During his too-few sober periods, he’d even acted as a father figure to her. He hadn’t been clean often, but Violet had cherished the moments when he was. Adam had been one of her father’s best friends and his best man at her parents’ wedding.

When Violet’s grandmother had been alive, she was always eager to regale Violet with stories of her parents. But even as a teenager, Violet had sensed her grandmother’s stories were candy coated, either because of the natural bias of a mother’s affection for her son and daughter-in-law, or in an effort to portray David and Lisa Townsend in the best possible light for their daughter.

Adam’s version of David and Lisa, on the other hand, had felt more vibrant and real. Violet had cherished the rare moments he’d been sober enough to humor her eager questions about her family. Adam’s stories had portrayed Violet’s father as a man full of mischief, with a wicked sense of humor and an itch to see the world beyond the pristine one he’d been born into.

As Violet had gotten older, she’d surmised that that itch must have been what brought Adam and her father together as best friends in the first place. Both men, in their way, had been seeking refuge from their straitlaced upbringing.

Adam, in drugs and alcohol.

Violet’s father, in his need for adventure, the farther from NYC, the better.

In both cases, the men’s respective lifestyle choices had ultimately led to their demise. Violet also wondered if they’d ever regretted those choices, or taken a moment to see the effect their lifestyle had on those around them. Had Adam or her father ever sensed that “fun-loving” also had a dark side? That it left the people who loved them horribly, achingly alone?