She ignored his jab and strode forward to the massive island that divided the kitchen and separated them by a good eight feet. She planted her palms down on the granite and leveled a stare at him.
“You may not give a damn about this family, but I still do, even if Dalton and I are not together.”
“Yeah, can we circle back around to that? Because I’m still not sure I understand what you’re doing here now when you and Dalton are divorced.”
“I’m here because Caro asked me to come.”
“I had no idea you two were so close.” There was a sneer in his voice and he didn’t bother to hide it. It irked him a little, that she and his mother were close. Nothing he’d ever done had been good enough for his mother. But she’d welcomed Portia like a long-lost daughter.
Portia must have heard the bitterness in his voice because she shrugged without really meeting his gaze. “Your mother and I have a lot in common. We were both pressured into marriages with powerful men who didn’t give a damn about us. I think she admires me for having the courage to walk away. Besides, she was like a mother to me for ten years.”
For the briefest moment, he wondered if it really was cowardice rather than greed that had kept his mother by Hollister’s side all those years. Then he decided it didn’t matter. She could have left. At any point in her thirty-plus years with Hollister she could have walked away. She could have done what was best for her kids and left an emotionally abusive man. Instead, she’d stayed. Maybe it was callous of him, but he resented her for it.
He snorted his derision. “Right. You came running to be with her because she was like a mother to you for a decade, but that’s about ten years longer than she was ever like a mother to me.”
Portia’s expression softened and she blew out a sigh. “Look, I know she wasn’t a perfect mother to you or to Dalton, but try to see this from her point of view. She never asked for this. She’s the victim here as much as you, Dalton and Cooper are.”
“I’m sure she’s hoping either Dalton or I will win the company and throw her a bone or two.”
Portia gave him an assessing look. “And will you? If you find your sister, will you give your mother some of Hollister’s fortune?”
He answered without even having to think about it. “Yeah. I will. But don’t tell her that.”
“Her husband is dying,” Portia said. “You could show a little sympathy.”
“More to the point, her dying husband is cutting her off. If she’s crying, I think I can guess why.”
Portia stared hard at him and then tossed down the dishtowel she’d held clutched in her hands. “You know, Griffin, you really are a piece of work. You act so superior. You criticize your parents for caring more about money than people, but when it comes down to it, you’re scrambling after Hollister’s money, too.”
“That was the point of this challenge, wasn’t it?” Griffin said past the hot knot of anger choking him. “He wanted us scrambling after him.”
“Maybe he just wanted your attention,” she countered.
“I suppose you think I’m a worthless son for not caring.”
Portia shook her head in exasperation. “Look, it’s not my business.”
“Well, at least we agree on that.” He moved to walk out but then stopped at the last minute. “You never told me who she was having lunch with.”
Portia had turned away from him to face the sink, and before she turned back he noticed that the tail of her shirt was untucked from her pants. And the twist in her hair had come loose and then been hastily repinned. Looking at her from behind, he realized she was more rumpled than he’d ever seen her. Before he had a chance to wonder why, she turned around and offered him a cold smile.
“I thought you knew. She’s having lunch with Sydney Edwards. Your assistant. I’m surprised you didn’t know.” His shock must have shown on his expression because a broad smile cracked the icy beauty of Portia’s face. She looked at her watch with an exaggerated gesture. “In fact, they should be sitting down for lunch right about now.”
Eight
Sydney knew she was outclassed the second she set foot in the River Oaks Country Club. Actually, she knew she was outclassed the second she pulled her aging Civic up to the security gate. River Oaks County Club was one of the most exclusive in the country. The sprawling antebellum clubhouse was built of pale bricks, its grandeur reinforced by oil fortunes and a century of social climbing. None of that intimidated Sydney. She’d spent her whole life being outclassed. The way she saw it, in terms of class and social prestige, pretty much everyone was higher on the totem pole than she was. No point in getting upset about that. When it came to interacting with people beyond her means, she was used to faking it.