Furiously trying to cover my tears, I grab a napkin from the holder in the middle of the table and dab my lower lids.
“Did you get a cat?” I ask Mom in a nasty, accusatory tone that makes me feel more shame. “These allergies...”
“Hasty…”
“Don’t call me that,” I snap at Mallory.
“I’m sorry. I’m just going back to… it just feels… well, you’re…” Her words come out in fits and starts as she tries to figure out the right way to say it.
“Just spit it out. Go ahead. Call me a loser. A failure. A sucker. Use all the words you say behind the scenes when you talk about me with Perky and Fiona. I know how it is now. I'm not just your sister. I am a topic.”
Acid fills my words.
It has to. Otherwise I'd burn right through from the inside out.
“No! You’re not! I don’t! Hastings, it’s just… I’m so sorry.”
Niagara Falls bursts out of my eyes.
“I’m just… so… tired,” I say, the tears making my voice shake, “of having people feel sorry for me. Stop saying you’re sorry. There’s only so… much… pity… I can absorb!”
Stricken, Mallory leans back and takes in a sharp inhale that pauses. She’s holding her breath. Have I offended her? Did I cross some line?
The old me wouldn’t care, but right now, I don’t even know which me I am.
“You’re not a sucker.” Will’s words surprise me, his gaze catching mine. “Burke is the asshole here, Hastings. He snowed a lot of people. You’re not the only one.”
“I was his wife. Or was I? Apparently, I wasn’t, but I was, so I spent all those years as his closest associate. That's what the investigators stressed. I shared a bed with him. Not enough,” I huff, making Mom’s face turn red. “The asshole didn’t even sleep with me for the last year that we were together, but I observed our wedding vows. Wedding vows that didn’t even exist. But they did, because we have video of it. So who is the sucker, Will? I think if anyone's the sucker, it’s me!” I slam my hand on the table, making the sugar spoon leap off the saucer Mom put it on, the thunk on the table like a guillotine slice.
Why am I doing this?
I’m falling apart, in front of the people who are most likely to…
To what? To hurt me? If I can’t fall apart with my mom and dad, and my sister and my future brother-in-law, who can I fall apart in front of?
“And, Dad?” This is the part I'm most ashamed of. It wasn't my fault, at all, but I have to tell him, and it's killing me.
“Yeah, sweetie?”
“I, um… they took Great-grandma's ring.”
Mom gasps. Mallory's eyes go to my left hand.
“The Feds did? I thought you could keep wedding and engagement rings, even if they take other stuff,” he says, shocked.
“I wasn't wearing it. Burke asked for it a couple of weeks before, to get it cleaned and re-appraised, and make sure the insurance was up to date.”
Dad's eyes narrow, a cold anger coming over him that terrifies me. “I carry the insurance on that ring. He never said a word.”
All I can do is blink, as I process what Dad's saying.
“Do you have a complete inventory of all of the assets they seized?” Will asks firmly.
“Not yet.”
“I suspect that cheating son of a bitch took it,” Dad says, face turning red in anger. “Not the Feds.”
“Oh, my God,” I gasp, then sob, my sounds turning atavistic as I hang my head, feeling even more shame than I thought possible. Not only is a family heirloom gone, what I thought happened to it, didn't.
Yet another way Burke screwed me over.
Only this time, he hurt my poor dad.
“I gave that ring to him when he told me he planned to propose. Said it was sentimental and highly valuable.”
“He only heard the last part.” I look at Mallory. “I'm so sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing to me?”
“Because I would have given it to you. You're the one who's about to have an intact marriage.”
Mal just blinks.
Bzzzzzz
I look at my phone. It’s Ian, yet again. I don’t read the text.
“Look,” I say, in the silence I’ve created around us. “I’m tired. It’s been a long day. Sorry for getting emotional.”
As I wipe my eyes, Mallory makes a face. “You never have to apologize for having feelings, Hasty.”
“Don't call me that,” I snap.
“Of course.” Mom stands. “Take your coffee up to your room.” She chuckles. “You’re a grown-up now, so you’re allowed to eat in your room.”
Something in me dies a little. She sees my face.
“You’re allowed to do whatever you want in your room. Of course. It’s your room. It’s your space. You can eat in there. You can redecorate. We can help you out, sweetie. We can give you a budget so you can go to Bed Bath & Beyond, and—”
“Mom.” Mallory stops her. “This isn’t helping.”
“You can even bring men home if you want.”
“Mom! Stop!”
“Or women,” Mom rushes to say, making Dad start coughing in surprise.
“MOM!” Mal and I say in unison.
“I… did I say something offensive?”
Mallory stands and physically puts her hand over our mother’s mouth. Dad just blinks. It’s Will who finally cuts through my moment of unreal shame.
“You’re not a loser,” he says to me. “You’re the victim of a con man who operated on the level of Bernie Madoff. Plenty of very smart people got taken in by him. You're Burke's victim.”
I flinch.
“Lots of people are. We have a system that allowed him to operate the way that he did for as long as he did. Parker is working on some legislation that will help make it so that financial criminals like Burke can’t get away with this.” His eyebrows go up and he reconsiders. “Or at least can’t do it as easily.”
The mention of Parker jolts me. Parker Campbell is an up-and-coming member of the House of Representatives from Texas, who happens also to be partnered with my sister’s best friend, Persephone. It feels like forever ago that I was in Boston and we rubbed elbows. He’s smart, charming, and comes from money.
For the last month, I’ve been aided by a team of legal experts, attorneys sent in who refused to tell me the name of the person funding their work. Given the countless hours they’ve put in, and their hourly rate, it has to be someone with serious money.
Either that, or my parents mortgaged the house to the hilt.
I knew this moment would come. Might as well get it over with.
“Thank you,” I say, making eye contact with Mom, Dad, and Will. “I don’t know which one of you has been paying for my lawyers and consultants, but they’ve done an extraordinary job, and I really appreciate it.”
The words I’ll pay you back stick in my throat because, of course, I can’t.
I can’t even pay for a manicure right now.
Confusion radiates from all of them. “What do you mean?” Dad asks.