Made in Manhattan

“Because you asked us to,” Violet pointed out.

“I did, I did. Though I wonder if perhaps I didn’t think that through all the way.”

“Meaning?”

“My initial thought when I learned of him was that he was my biological grandson, and here’s my adopted granddaughter, of sorts.”

Violet’s smile at Edith referring to her as a granddaughter faded at her next words.

“I suppose, in my head, I was thinking of you two as siblings.”

Violet took an unladylike gulp of wine. She had plenty of thoughts about Cain Stone. Brother wasn’t one of them.

“Cain’s an attractive man,” Edith pressed on when Violet said nothing.

“So is Keith,” Violet said, more out of knee-jerk loyalty than passionate conviction. Keith was handsome, just not in a way that made her feel hot every time she looked at him.

“Of course. He’s very attractive,” Edith agreed easily—too easily. “And you know, all this time, I had thought Keith was an excellent partner for you.”

“Really?” Violet was surprised. She knew Edith didn’t dislike Keith, but she’d never exactly gushed about him either.

Edith nodded slowly. “You’ve experienced so much loss, Violet. And I myself am not getting any younger.”

“Edith—”

“No, let me say this,” the other woman said, holding up a hand. “I won’t be around forever, and it’s been important to me that you’ll have someone after I’m gone.”

“And you think that someone is Keith?”

Edith hesitated. “I think Keith is steady… I think he’d be there.”

Physically maybe, Violet thought. But emotionally? In the way that mattered, the way she wanted?

“Why are you telling me all of this?” Violet asked warily.

“Well,” Edith exhaled. “The thing is, Vi, I’m not so sure I’ve had the right of it. That isn’t easy for me to say, but…”

Her voice trailed off, and she got a dreamy expression on her face. “Did you know that when Bernard and I first met, he was a volunteer firefighter?”

“I definitely did not,” Violet said, surprised. Bernard Rhodes had been a large, imposing man—something he’d passed on to his grandson—but Bernard has also been polished to the point of stuffy. She had very few memories of Edith’s late husband in anything other than a three-piece suit. Even when they’d gone to the Southampton beach home, his polo shirts had been ironed, his shorts perfectly pressed.

“He played in a rock band. Drums. The band—oh, what were they called—the Blue Flames were terrible, absolutely dreadful. Bernard knew it but he loved being a part of it anyway. And he had a little tattoo.” Edith smiled. “Right here.” Edith reached around and tapped the back of her right shoulder.

“I’m shocked,” Violet said with a little laugh. “I had no idea. I feel like I barely knew him!”

“And did you know, Bernard was adamant for quite some time that he wanted nothing to do with the family business. It also took him nearly five years to pop the question,” Edith said. “And I was never quite sure he would.”

“Five years,” Violet repeated. “And you stuck around?”

Edith twisted the wedding ring she still wore and smiled. “One of the few times in my life I bided my time and tried to be patient. I loved him. Even if he’d never asked for my hand, I don’t think I’d have stopped loving him, but he was not… predictable. He wasn’t safe. Not like Jimmy.”

“Who the heck is Jimmy?”

“One of my other beaus. We went steady for years before I met Bernard. And for a little bit after. I eventually broke things off when I realized my heart didn’t beat quite wildly enough for him, but he kept coming around, promising things Bernard wouldn’t. A wedding, a family, a nice house, a predictable income. All the things I wanted.”

“So why didn’t you say yes?”

The faraway look on Edith’s face faded, and she came back to the present, giving Violet a sharp, steady look. “Because I realized there was something I wanted more.”

Thirteen

Do you want to go over the whole silverware thing again?” Violet asked, facing off with a scowling Cain.

They were in his new apartment—his bedroom, to be precise—prepping for a dinner with Edith and two of the most influential Rhodes International board members.

On the surface, it was simply dinner.

In reality, it was more an interview than a social engagement, and Cain’s edginess told her he was well aware of this fact.

“Well?” she asked when he stayed stubbornly silent.

“The little knife is for the butter, don’t wipe my pits with the finger towel, bread plate’s on the left,” he said, accepting the dress shirt she handed him. “I forget, though—am I supposed to bray at the table, or no?”

Violet sighed. “Just get dressed. You’re going to be late.”

“What are you even doing here?” he asked, punching his arm into the sleeve.

“Isn’t it obvious? I can’t get enough of all this groveling gratitude.”

In reality, she was only here because Edith had asked her to help talk him through any questions that might come up.