"Oh, the cuff links? Of course. They're my favorite. They go with everything.”
I smile, running my fingers through my hair, which is in bad need of a haircut. The strands are getting so long, they’re falling into my eyes.
Lincoln looks up, makes a note of this, but says nothing.
The last time we had a big blow-up fight about nothing in particular, we made an agreement. We were not going to judge each other on things that do not truly matter, and ever since then, our relationship has been much improved.
"How's work?" I ask.
Lincoln just shrugs and turns his face away. "You know how it is, tiresome, a little boring."
"You know you don't have to be there," I say, grabbing a slice of bread and breaking it open with my hands.
I butter one side and take a big bite as we wait for the appetizers to arrive. "We have more than enough money."
"We?" Lincoln raises his eyebrow.
"I'm just saying, you know that there's a trust. You know that the work that you do can be something that you enjoy and not just something that you force yourself into."
"Listen, you and I both know about the trust and the rules of the trust."
I nod.
"Marguerite is not part of it. Listen, I think you could probably take them to court and say that ..."
"Nope, I can't. Mom pays for the summer house, I couldn't afford any of that, not even on my salary.” He shakes his head.
"You don't know what it's like to just try to constantly compete with everyone around you, only it's not an even playing field."
I want to roll my eyes. We're about as privileged as a family can get. Yes, there are some strings attached to a trust that's preventing him from accessing millions of dollars, but he makes over half a million dollars a year and that doesn't include bonuses that can triple that amount.
"What? You don't agree with me?" Lincoln folds his arms across his chest, pouting.
I take another bite of the bread. "Listen, all I was saying is that you deserve to do something you enjoy for a living and it doesn't have to be what you currently do."
"Really?" He leans over, glaring into my eyes. “Do you know that she makes seventy grand as an ER doctor? Can you live on so little?”
"Yes," I say, "lots of people do."
"Well, I don't intend to be that person."
I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. This has always been a thing about Lincoln. He has always had a chip on his shoulder about what he has and what he doesn't in life.
Yes, we come from an incredibly wealthy family, but there are rules governing that. If you want access to that money, you have to play it by them.
Him marrying Marguerite was a big no-no. It's laid out in my grandfather's will that the only person that he is allowed to marry is someone from a family of comparable means.
The definition of comparable means is, of course, open to dispute in court, but merely taking that action would be throwing in the possibility of losing everything.
Lincoln is the kind of guy who plays things safe. After college, he got an internship at an investment bank, then a job and he started growing through the ranks.
He puts in insane hours, and I don't think that he has ever given it any consideration whether he even enjoys what he does for a living or whether he even has that right.
"Look, you act like you're above all of this but you're not.” Lincoln points his finger in my face.
The glasses of wine and the Jack Daniel’s are going to his head.
“I'm tired of it, you know? I'm tired of you being this I'm this guy above everything kind of persona,” he says, rounding his words but not slurring them quite yet.
"I'm not like that at all.”
“Yes, you are. I mean, that's why you have no relationship, that's why you have no apartment."
"I have an apartment."
"Okay, an apartment that you actually use, one you actually live in."
"Okay, so? I work and fly a lot for work,” I say, slouching in my chair.
"What does that matter?” Lincoln continues to ramble. “Obviously, you're running away. You have always been running away. And don't pretend that the work that you do, meeting with all of these CEOs and analyzing risk and deciding whether you're going to give them money that they desperately need, that's not some major power trip? What makes you think that you even know what is and what isn't going to work? Yeah, you have some experience but you'd never invest in my company."
"What was that?" I ask and suddenly, the expression on his face changes.
"Nothing."
"You have a company?” I ask.
"I don't want to talk about it."
I press some more but he just clams up. He was like this as a kid as well. He'll tell me in his own time and his own time might take a while.
After our appetizers of Ahi tuna and macadamia nut cream cheese arrive, he grabs his tumbler of Jack Daniel’s and I lift up my glass.
"Sorry that this started off on some kind of a tepid note," Lincoln says, "but I actually have some news to share."
"Okay.” I nod.
"Marguerite is having a baby."
"Oh my God," I say, after a long pause.
"Wow, I'm so excited for you," I force the words out of my mouth even though I'm stuck more in disbelief than excitement. Luckily, he doesn't seem to notice.
We clink our glasses and he finishes his and asks the waiter for another. He's celebrating, right? Of course he is, I say to myself.
"I'm so happy for you. How far along is she?"
“Fifteen weeks. She's been kind of sick so that's why she didn't want to meet up with Mom the few times that she invited us over."
I nod. He doesn’t have to say it out loud since we both know perfectly well what Mom thinks about Marguerite.
"Look, she's going to come around. You're going to give her her first grandchild," I say.
"Yeah, not so sure about that but it will be her first grandchild, maybe her only one."
I laugh, knowing exactly what he’s referring to.
“Marguerite is over the moon. She's always wanted kids,” Lincoln says.
"And what about you?"
"I'm happy, of course." And yet I hear a little bit of disappointment in his voice.
"You know, it's okay if you're scared or unsure. I mean, this is a major life change."
"I'm fine. You know me, just got to put in those hours and ..."
"Well, what's going to happen when the baby comes?” I ask.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, aren't you going to help take care of it?"
"Uh, of course, I'm the father.” Lincoln rolls his eyes.
"Okay, good." I nod.
Lincoln bites the inside of his mouth, looking up at me in that way that makes me convinced of the fact that he's lying. "Marguerite will need your help, you know?"
"Look, she and I, we have a certain way of doing things. We have a division of labor."
"Okay, now," I say, "but you haven't had a child before. You can't expect her to do everything."