He Called My Inheritance a Forgery in Front of Three Hundred Guests, Then Took Every Blow Meant for Me novel · Chapter 3 of 40

Chapter 3: Table One

Danielle makes Genevieve kneel to blot spilled wine, Leonard grabs her wrist, and Kendrick throws him out, until Leonard asks if she knows what her father really left Kendrick.

"Why would he ask for me?" I said.

Kendrick didn't answer.

"You could put someone else on his table," I said. "If you didn't want me there."

"I could," he said.

He went back inside.

So that was my answer.

By noon my feet were bleeding through the pharmacy flats.

By six I had stopped feeling them.

The Orchard Room is the prettiest room at Harrow Hill.

Dark wood, apple branches carved over the fireplace, candles in every window.

My mother picked the paint color.

I carried the first course in on a tray and set it down at table one.

Leonard Thorndike was at the head.

He was a big man, tanned in October, with thick silver hair combed straight back and a gold ring on his little finger.

He smiled at me.

"There she is," he said. "The heiress."

The table laughed.

The blonde woman was at his right hand.

Up close she was all sharp angles and red lipstick.

"Danielle," he said. "You remember Genevieve. From your little video."

"Of course," said Danielle Thorndike. "Hi, sweetie. Love the shoes."

I put her plate down.

"Enjoy your dinner," I said.

"Oh, she talks," Danielle said.

The table laughed again.

I worked the room for two hours.

I poured wine and cleared plates and kept my face like a closed door.

I'd run events for five years at a hotel on Park Avenue.

I'd had a senator's wife throw a shrimp at me.

I could do one dinner.

During the main course Danielle raised one finger without looking up.

"More red."

I filled her glass.

She lifted it, turned it in the candlelight, and tipped it over.

On purpose.

She didn't even pretend.

The wine went across the white cloth, off the edge, and onto my shoes and the rug my mother had chosen.

"Oops," Danielle said.

"I'll get you a new glass."

"No, the rug first, I think." She looked down at it. "Don't you think, Daddy? It'll stain."

Leonard wiped his mouth with his napkin.

"Thomas loved that rug," he said.

Forty people were watching.

I could feel the banquet captain behind me, not moving.

I got down on my knees.

I blotted the rug with a napkin while Danielle Thorndike's shoe tapped six inches from my face.

"You missed a spot," she said.

I found it.

When I stood up, my knees were purple with wine.

Leonard caught my eye and lifted his glass a little, like a toast.

At dessert he called me over.

"Sweetheart," he said. "Lean down."

I leaned down.

He smelled like cigars and expensive soap.

He tucked something into the front pocket of my apron.

It was a hundred-dollar bill folded around a business card.

"For the rug," he said quietly. "And for later. When you're tired of carrying plates."

"I'm not for sale, Mr. Thorndike."

"Everybody's for sale. The trick is the price."

He winked.

I straightened up and turned to go.

His hand closed around my wrist.

It wasn't hard.

It didn't need to be.

It was just a big warm hand that didn't let go.

"I knew your father thirty years," he said, loud enough for the table. "I'd hate to see his girl on her knees forever."

"Let go of me."

"I'm being friendly."

"Let go."

He smiled and held on.

Then a voice behind me said, "Leonard."

Kendrick was in the doorway.

I hadn't heard him come in.

Nobody had.

He crossed the room without hurrying, and the whole table went quiet as he came.

He didn't look at me.

He put his hand over Leonard's hand on my wrist.

Then he lifted it off me, finger by finger.

He set Leonard's hand down on the tablecloth, in the wine stain.

"My staff aren't on the menu," he said.

Leonard laughed.

"Your staff. Kendrick. She's Thomas's daughter."

"Tonight she's my server. And this is your last dinner at Harrow Hill."

Danielle's mouth fell open.

"You can't throw us out," she said. "It's his birthday."

"Then happy birthday," Kendrick said. "Your cars are out front at nine. I've already called them."

He turned to me at last.

"Kitchen," he said.

I didn't move.

"Genevieve. Kitchen."

I went.

My heart was banging so hard I could feel it in my wrist where Leonard had held it.

At the door, I looked back.

I couldn't help it.

Leonard hadn't moved.

He was wiping wine off his fingers with his napkin, slowly, still smiling.

"Kendrick," he said, pleasantly, to the whole room. "Does she know?"

Kendrick didn't answer.

"Does she know what Thomas left you?" Leonard said. "All of it? Or just the company?"

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