“At least you had a good excuse,” Celia said, which was not something she’d have been able to say when she was seventeen.
Suzanne gave a noncommittal shrug. “Maybe, maybe not. I really don’t remember how we put up with it. We mostly didn’t, if I recall. I’m just glad we managed to get through it and survive. Mostly.” A sad smile for the absent figure in their lives, an acknowledgment of the great gaping hole Warren West, Captain Olympus, had left behind.
Celia had reconciled with her father there at the end. She hadn’t had a chance to enjoy the reconciliation. He’d died in her arms after saving her life, and she held on to that.
Celia said, “I’m worried that Anna’s not doing well and I don’t know what to do about it.”
“This is the moment when I’m supposed to feel a sense of sweet revenge.” Suzanne did seem rather pleased, and Celia didn’t blame her for it.
“I’m sorry. For the record, for all records, I’m sorry.”
“Water under the bridge. We all made mistakes.” She took another sip, considered. “You know, your father couldn’t see past his nose sometimes, but he was always there when he needed to be. Always.” Emphatic, it was a statement on her own life. A declaration that Celia wouldn’t argue, however much she might have wanted to.
“Celia, you and Anna and Bethy will all be fine,” Suzanne declared.
The door to the penthouse foyer slammed open and shut again, and teenage footsteps, like a herd of antelope, pounded in.
“… I don’t care. If she asks I’m telling her, I’m not going to lie to cover your ass.” That was Bethy. Bethy swearing. The word sounded odd in her young voice. They were both growing up. At least her parents only ever had to deal with her. Celia had two of them. Double the revenge for her own teenage sins.
Suzanne arched a brow at Celia, asking if she knew what that was about, and Celia only sighed, because she suspected she did.
“Hey, girls,” she called to the foyer, and the footsteps stopped. A moment of quiet, and she could imagine them standing there, looking at each other, trying to figure out why Mom wasn’t in the right place for the afternoon routine. “How was school?” Celia added as a prompt. She rejected the very notion of asking, “Tell me what?”
Side by side, a matched set in their uniforms, wide-eyed and uncertain, the two of them came cautiously into the living room, hesitating like they didn’t know what to expect. Mom and Grandma, drinking in the afternoon like a couple of degenerate lushes. It must have been shocking.
Girls—they were young women. Anna at least was full grown. They’d long since lost their baby fat and had the lean frames they’d inherited from their athletic grandparents. They were both wearing bras, sneaking on mascara before school, and in a few short years they’d both fly the coop. Celia almost burst into tears.
“So,” she said. “How was school?”
“Fine,” they both said, in unison. It was kind of cute.
“The ride home was good?”
“Yeah,” Bethy said. Anna was chewing her lip, looking at the ceiling, the floor, the far window, everywhere but at her mother.
“And school was boring like it always is?”
Bethy looked at Anna, waiting for a cue. When Anna didn’t give her one, she mumbled, “Yeah.”
It would be funny if Celia weren’t so twisted up with worry. She decided not to bring up the director’s call. Celia could see how puffy and shadowed Anna’s eyes were. Arguing about it wasn’t going to change anything, since Anna would just deny everything.
Maybe she’d make Arthur talk to her. It would serve him right.
“I really have a lot of homework, so I’m going to get to it, if that’s okay,” Anna said finally, pointing a thumb over her shoulder.
“Okay,” Celia said. “I’m glad you’re home—” she called after them, but they’d already fled.
She slumped against the back of the chair. The wine in her glass had somehow vanished. On the sofa, Suzanne looked like she was trying not to laugh. Celia glared.
“Oh, honey, you’re doing fine,” her mother said. “Really, you’re all doing fine.”
Time would tell, she supposed. A few more years, and maybe neither one of them would turn out to be a bank robber, or a henchman for the next master criminal to come along. Wouldn’t that be swell?
Suzanne announced that it was time to start dinner, and the house settled into its early evening routine. Celia retreated to her office to go over a few last things and the next day’s list.
An urgent e-mail flashed on her screen—from the assistant in the legal department. The initial report she’d asked for on Superior Construction was already done. And why shouldn’t it be, that’s why it was called an initial report. She opened the file and started reading.
Summary: The lawyers believed they could get the lawsuit dismissed as baseless easily enough, but they thought it would be worthwhile to look into countersuing for bringing a frivolous suit. And this was why Celia hired lawyers. She definitely wanted to consider a countersuit.