"Fine."
Grand squeezes my hand again. "Prescott, are you all right?"
"No, Grand, I'm not. My entire name is a charade."
Grand says, "Look me in the eye, young man."
I do as she commands. Grand can be sweet, but she has a steely side to her too.
"Don't you ever say that again. You carry the Whitworth genes. Your mother was a Whitworth, and the last time I checked, your middle name is Whitworth. Your name will never be a charade to your grandfather or me. Do you understand?"
"Yes, ma'am, I do."
"And let's get one more thing straight. The charade is the man you called your father. You never acted like him or took after him. Now we all know why."
She's right about that, although I thought I inherited his asshole gene. Now I wonder who I got that from.
"Go and get some work accomplished and we'll talk again later," Granddad says.
"Yes, sir, I will."
When I get back to my office, Lynn wants to know why I'm so glum. I can't share this news with anyone yet, at least not until I have all the details. "Nothing. Or rather I can't disclose it yet."
"Okay. You had some calls come in." She hands me the paper with them listed.
Now I have to get my work done and push this to the back of my mind. Like that's gonna happen.
The afternoon drags. Eric shows up at a quarter till five. I want to escort him up to the interview myself. He's so damn twitchy you'd think he had fleas.
"Calm down or they'll think you've never been on an interview."
"Honey, I can't help it. I'm about to have an ex-orgasm."
"A what?"
"You know. I'm excited, exasperated, exhausted, exploding … "
"I get the idea." I've never seen Eric act so fluttery before. "Do you need a drink? You know, to calm your ass down?"
"Shit. Am I that bad?"
"Yes."
He raises his hands. "Okay, okay. Pulling my shit together now. I won't let you down. I swear." Then he gives me the Boy Scout salute.
"Oh, for fuck's sake. You were not a Boy Scout."
He's insulted. His mouth presses into a thin line. "Yes, I was. What? Just because I'm gay I couldn't be one?"
"No, I didn't say or mean to infer that. You don't appear to be the type who likes to camp and hike."
"Oh, but I do. I love that stuff. I've hiked a bunch of the Appalachian Trail."
I'm so shocked by his statement, he could push me over with his pinky. Eric, hiking on the Appalachian Trail just does not seem to fit in my mind.
"Yeah, I just demolished your image of me, didn't I? We'll go camping sometime, Fancy Pants. You'll see."
A hearty laugh rips out of me and he joins in. "I'll take you up on that. Come on, let's go. Oh, and don't call me honey in front of anyone."
"Why. Will they think we're lovers?"
I grumble out an unrecognizable response as I escort him down to the floor where our design team is located. Eyeballs pop when it's me who makes the introductions. Then I ask if someone would call me when they're finished. "Never mind. Eric, text me. I'll be in a meeting and won't be taking calls."
"No problem."
I leave the room and the air is thick with questions everyone is dying to ask him. I would love to be a fly on the wall, but I have to be downstairs for the big meeting, which I'm not looking forward to.
When I notice the time, I see I'm five minutes away from kickoff. My gut twists in knots and I'm not sure if I want to hear what this woman has to say.
My grandparents are waiting for me and the three of us look more than a bit apprehensive.
Granddad's phone finally rings, alerting us to her arrival. When she walks in, she looks familiar. Her face tugs at my memory, but when she smiles, it hits me. She's one of my mother's friends who used to visit her.
"Hello, Prescott, Mrs. Whitworth, Mr. Whitworth," she says, greeting us warmly.
"Laura, thank you for coming," Grand says.
We sit and Laura launches into the most disturbing story I've ever heard. She explains how she and my mom, Simone, were great friends. She adored my mom and they'd been close since they were children. After I was born, Mom suspected Dad wasn't my father, but wasn't certain until I grew older. Then she had me tested. My dad didn't want to do it, but agreed-as long as it would be kept a secret. He didn't care to lose his place in the family business, I suppose. Mom begged Laura never to speak the truth to anyone. After Mom died, Laura received a letter from her. I guess she mailed it the morning of her death. In the letter she told Laura never to tell anyone her secret. But then Mom went on to say if she did, to wait until I was an adult and could handle it. Laura kept the secret until now. She says it just felt like Mom wanted me to know. She stares at me when she says this.
It doesn't feel like I'm exactly handling it very well. At one point in her story, Laura started crying, and admittedly, so did I. Even Grand dabbed at her eyes, and Granddad cleared his throat.
Essentially, we are all a mess.
Dammit, Mom. Why'd you have to do this?
"Why didn't you come to us sooner?" I ask, my tone accusatory.
"I know you must think I'm awful. I didn't know what to do, actually. At first I thought, what they didn't know can't hurt them and all that, but then it kept eating away at me." She rubs her throat for a minute.
"So my father knows. Or rather, Jeff knows."
"Yes."
"So who is my biological father?"
A look of sympathy passes over Laura's face. "Simone never shared his name with me. All I know is she met him up at Lake George. You had a home up there at one point, didn't you?"
Grand nods.
"She went up there alone, sometime after she and Jeff were married. I do know that. I also know he passed, because she told me as much. It was around the time when you were five or six."
So my biological father is deceased. There's an element to me that's not exactly sad, but regretful over the fact I never knew him.
"Your mother was never happily married, Prescott. I may be overstepping my bounds here, but I think you should know she wasn't the type to go off with different men. The fact that she did it with one at all was shocking to even her. And she had a great deal of remorse over it. It stayed with her for … well, I think you know."
"Why the hell didn't she just get divorced?"
"Jeff threatened her."
All three of us, Grand, Granddad, and me, all simultaneously say, "He what?"
Laura's head drops and she stares at the floor. Then she speaks. "He wasn't very kind to her. Maybe you all saw a different side to him, but she said he stayed with her for the money and position. Without her, he was nothing."
A spark ignites in my gut and turns into a raging fire. My grandfather and I glance at each other. If what she says is true, I will toss that ass out on the street and not have an ounce of regret.
"I want more information on this, Laura."
She perks up. I imagine it's because my entire demeanor has changed. I've gone from sad and pathetic, poor Prescott, to a man out for revenge.
"He was verbally abusive."
"You're sure about this?" I ask.
She sneers. "Oh, I'm sure. I witnessed his outbursts many times. He was quite offensive, even when I was around. I can only imagine what he was like when they were alone. I used to beg her to leave, but she wouldn't. I guess he had some kind of a hold on her."
"Can you be more specific?" I ask, glancing again at my grandparents.
"I can try. Once I was over there, you were away, and I can't remember where. But the two of us were outside, talking and laughing, when he stormed out and yelled at us both. Told us we were nothing but worthless whores and that I needed to go home. I was married, still am, and was insulted. When I went to give it back to him, Simone grabbed my arm and shook her head in a silent warning. I shut my mouth, got up, and left. She was afraid of him; I have no doubt. There was fear in her eyes. But this happened a lot when I was there."
My jaws clench. He never laid a hand on me, but then again, I probably would've run to Grand or Granddad and his ass would've been toast. "Do you have any evidence that he hit her?"
She shakes her head. "No, and if he did, she hid it from me. Again, that wasn't the only time he did that. He would say awful things about her, too. Tell her she was good for nothing, lazy, and worthless. I don't think he liked for her to have friends around much."
Grand adds, "Maybe he felt threatened."
"I think she was deeply depressed, but hid it from everyone. She always put on a happy face."
And that's exactly how I remember my mother … always smiling and telling me how much she loved me. She never spared her hugs and love, that's for sure.
Grand asks her some more questions and I can't imagine how this must make her feel-the man their daughter married and the same man they've financially backed for all these years, is now uncovered as being not only an asshole, but a verbally abusive one. And he may be the one who contributed to her suicide.