Chapter 3 - Dinner With an Empty Chair
Douglas Ashcroft sent the invitation on cream stationery, although his assistant also texted Nathaniel twice to make certain it had arrived. The message requested that Nathaniel bring Clare to dinner at the family's house in Westchester. It described the evening as an opportunity to “get acquainted.” It said nothing about Victoria Bowmont.
Clare read it over Nathaniel's shoulder. “She's going to be there.”
“I asked my father.”
“And?”
“He told me not to make the evening difficult.”
“Then she's definitely going to be there.”
Nathaniel offered to decline. Clare considered it while standing in her kitchen with a dish towel in her hand. She was tired of decisions being made in rooms she wasn't permitted to enter, but she was equally unwilling to be paraded around as a challenge to another woman.
“I'll go if you tell your family before dinner that I'm your partner, not a negotiating tactic,” she said. “And if anyone humiliates me, we leave. Both of us.”
“Agreed.”
“Don't agree automatically. Think about whether you'll actually walk out.”
He looked at her, then put the invitation down. “I'll walk out.”
He called Eleanor that afternoon and said Clare was coming as his girlfriend. He asked directly whether Victoria would attend. Eleanor confirmed it after a long pause.
“Then Victoria should hear from you,” Nathaniel said. “I won't have Clare ambushed.”
“Your father—”
“Can call me himself.”
At seven on Thursday they arrived beneath a portico bright enough to light a small theater. Clare wore a simple navy dress she owned already and a pair of boots she'd had repaired. Nathaniel asked if she wanted his arm before they entered. She took it, then let go when the door opened. She could stand on her own.
Eleanor greeted them in a drawing room lined with portraits of people who all appeared to have disapproved of the painter. She was dressed impeccably in pale gray and carried her discomfort like another piece of jewelry.
“Clare,” she said. “I've heard you work in health policy.”
“Yes. We look at how financial arrangements affect what patients actually experience.”
“How timely.” Eleanor's gaze flicked toward Nathaniel. “Your research must keep you terribly busy.”
“It does. I like it.”
Douglas arrived with Harrison Bowmont, a square-faced man whose hand swallowed Clare's without quite shaking it. Victoria followed. She was elegant in a deep green dress, her smile polished and her eyes exhausted.
“Nathaniel,” Victoria said. “You didn't tell me.”
“I tried to reach you yesterday.”
“My assistant said you called. I thought it was about the foundation dinner.”
“I'm sorry it wasn't clearer.”
Clare noticed that Victoria looked genuinely caught off guard. The cruelty of the arrangement was not reserved for one person.
At dinner, a place had been set beside Nathaniel for Victoria and another at the distant end of the table for Clare. A servant stood waiting by the chairs, plainly wishing he could become invisible. Clare took her assigned seat without comment. Nathaniel took the chair beside her. His mother glanced toward the empty place between two centerpieces.
“The seating plan was prepared in advance,” Eleanor said.
“Then we'll disappoint the seating plan,” Nathaniel replied.
No one laughed. Clare almost did.
Douglas waited until the main course to speak. “The Bowmont acquisition requires a stable narrative. Markets dislike distractions.”
“Clare isn't a distraction,” Nathaniel said.
“I wasn't talking to you.” Douglas turned to her. “I assume you understand the implications of being seen with my son.”
“I understand that being seen isn't the same thing as being owned,” Clare replied.
Harrison set his fork down with a tiny click. Victoria stared at her plate.
Douglas's expression did not change. “A romantic answer.”
“A practical one. I don't want access to your money. I want the freedom to do my work without anyone wondering whether I traded my conclusions for dinner.”
“Then perhaps you should choose your company carefully.”
“I did.” She glanced at Nathaniel. “I'm waiting to see whether he keeps choosing carefully too.”
An uncomfortable silence settled. Nathaniel broke it.
“I've requested an independent review of Meridian Access. The joint venture's transfer-billing practices raise questions. I'm recusing myself from any vendor decisions that could affect Clare's work, and I've disclosed our relationship to company counsel.”
Harrison's face hardened. “This is neither the room nor the moment.”
“Then arrange the moment,” Nathaniel said. “The review is going ahead.”
Victoria looked up sharply. “Adrian says the contracts are legal.”
“Legal according to whom?” Clare asked before she could stop herself. “Patients were told they were being transferred for continuity. Did anybody explain that the facility might bill them outside their insurance network?”
“That's not a fair characterization,” Harrison said.
“Then a review ought to clear it up.”
Douglas folded his napkin. “You have made your point.”
“No,” Nathaniel said, “I'm making it now. I'm not marrying Victoria. I am not going to make that announcement at a foundation dinner or anywhere else. I'm sorry my silence let anyone believe otherwise.”
Victoria's chin lifted. “You could have said that before the invitations went out.”
“You're right. I should have.”
Her eyes filled for a second, then steadied. Clare felt sympathy without feeling responsible. A woman could be hurt by a man's hesitation and still be capable of making her own harmful choices later.
After dessert, Victoria found Clare beside the hallway window while Nathaniel fetched their coats.
“I don't want your apology,” Victoria said.
“I wasn't planning to give you one.”
A startled smile crossed Victoria's face and disappeared. “My father has treated that wedding like a closing date since I was seventeen. If the merger stalls, he'll blame me.”
“That's wrong.”
“You don't understand this kind of family.”
“Maybe not. But I understand not wanting your future written by somebody else.”
Victoria folded her arms. “You think you're the exception. He'll choose the board when the board matters.”
“Then I'll learn something important about him.”
For an instant, the two women regarded one another without the men who had arranged their positions. Then Victoria stepped aside. “You don't know what you're standing in front of.”
In the car home, Nathaniel rested his head against the seat. Clare waited until they'd crossed the bridge before speaking.
“You should apologize to her properly,” she said. “Not for loving me. For leaving her in uncertainty.”
“I will.”
“And that audit? If you want me to trust you, don't come to me with protected company documents.”
“I won't.”
Clare's phone rang. It was Miriam, still in her office.
“We've received a complaint about your research,” Miriam said. “Anonymous. It says you've been trying to influence a merger for personal gain.”
Clare watched the bridge lights streak across the windshield. “Are you suspending me?”
“I'm reviewing the complaint. I thought you should hear it from me before somebody else decides what it means.”
May you like
Nathaniel heard enough to understand. He reached for Clare's hand and stopped halfway, waiting for her to choose. She took it.
“Someone,” she said after she hung up, “started making this personal long before tonight.”
