Page 21 of Billionaire Corruption
“Everyone said I was making a terrible decision, they said I would regret it. But I never did. Even after he was shot and killed.”
She sighed deeply. “He was the love of my life. He gave me three beautiful children and the fifteen years we were together were the happiest of my life.”
As my grandmother spoke, I could picture her as a young woman, before the arthritis and the weight gain. I could see that she must have been beautiful, with her large, blue eyes and the full mouth.
“What happened to Edward?” I wanted to know.
“As far as I know, he stayed in India. He got married eventually and came back for visits. But I never saw him again. I heard he died of malaria, a few years ago.”
“And your parents never forgave you?”
“My father, no. But my mother came to see the children after they were born. Grandchildren are too precious, you see. She would come, bringing gifts and money for me.”
“And you, did you forgive them?”
My grandmother gave me a canny glance. “I suppose that is a good question. I think I did, eventually. Those were different times and I think my father thought that Edward and I would have been a better match. Not only in terms of my financial situation, but also because we’d had the same background, and class.”
He had not placed great stock on his daughter’s proclamations of love and devotion. As far as he was concerned, love was something that came after marriage, it emerged over years of building a family, raising children, and forging a standing for yourself in the world. He frowned on the kind of love his daughter talked about, it was too uncultured, more instinctual, almost uncivilized.
My grandmother went on as if I hadn’t spoken.
“I remember the day I knew it was love, that we were supposed to be together. One afternoon, there was the strangest downpour. Like a deluge of rain. I was about to leave the office and there was Jimmy, waiting for me with an umbrella. He thought I might need it.”
My grandmother had tears in her eyes.
“Don’t marry for money or convenience. Don’t look for someone who’s reliable or sensible. Find someone who will bring you an umbrella when it rains.”
I thought of my last boyfriend, Ben, who had gone off to an auditing firm in Chicago. I knew my grandmother had thought him a bit dull, but he had been good to me and had not cheated on me. When he left, we’d tried to make it work for a while, but the distance and our busy working schedules had gotten in the way.
By the time I went to bed, I didn’t want to think about whether Paul was sensible or not. I thought that our little fling was probably over now. He said it was something he’d needed to get out of his system and now he probably had. We’d slept together, more than once, so he made sure of that. Our conversation in the car afterwards had been a bit awkward, mostly because I had been argumentative.
I don’t know why I behaved that way with him.
I did notice that I seemed to act unlike myself when I was around him. Either I was insecure and nervous, or I was stubborn and angry. It was odd and I didn’t like it. I didn’t feel like I was entirely in control of my emotions.
I don’t think any man had ever thrown me like him.
I thought about my father, Jimmy’s eldest son, who supposedly looked so much like him. He’d told me once about his grandmother coming to visit. He could still remember her. She had been very smartly dressed, hesaid, someone who wore gloves in summer and smelled like flowers. He had been amazed to hear that this fine lady had been his grandmother. He’d told me that she was completely unlike his own mother, who never wore make-up and always wore her hair loose and a little wild.
I lay in bed, looking at my room, which was always neat and tidy, my collection of coats and jackets, my admiration of people with good manners and a polite way of speaking. I wondered if I was like her, my great-grandmother, because I didn’t feel myself to be very similar to my grandmother, who was such a strong, efficient woman and always confident in her ways.
But the way my father described his grandmother, she sounded sad, like she was trying to connect with her daughter and grandson and was unable to. They had moved away from her, not only physically, but also in class and values. She was stuck with her husband, his social standing, and his morals.
I didn’t want to be sad.
I wanted to be happy, like my grandmother.
Chapter 10
Paul
I met Don in a bar downtown.
He sent me the address by text. It was in a seedy hotel with a quiet bar, a few regulars who barely looked up when I came in. It was a good place for a private meeting, and I spotted him sitting at a table near a wood fire. He had two beers in front of him. When he saw me, he nodded in greeting, and I went over.
“Took the liberty, got you beer,” he said and pointed.
I thanked him and sat down.
