Dad opens his eyes and surveys me incredulously.
“Were you really at the party all the time?”
“All the time.” I nod. “Hiding here and there.”
“But why? Not just to avoid Krista?”
“No!” I can’t help laughing. “I was searching for my Russian dolls. You haven’t seen them, have you?”
“Your Russian dolls?” Dad frowns thoughtfully. “Now, I have seen them. But I’m blessed if I know where.”
“That’s what Bean said.” I sigh. “I guess the packers will turn them up.”
“They won’t be lost,” says Dad reassuringly. Then he gives a sudden laugh. “I can’t believe you were hiding under the console table. Remember the Christmas you hid there, when you were a little girl?”
“I was remembering that too.” I nod. “You came and hid with me. And then you let me carry in the Christmas pudding.”
“We’ve had some happy times here,” says Dad, and a shadow passes over his face as he reaches for his glass. Now that I’m properly close to him, I can see that he looks more lined than the last time I saw him. Older. More worried. Not at all like someone who’s “never been happier.”
He’s such a performer, Dad. He can fool his guests and even his own family. But life’s difficult, I realize. More difficult than he’s been letting on.
And I feel a wash of shame. Have I ever asked Dad how he’s doing? Have I ever looked at him as a person? Or only as my dad, who was supposed to be superhuman and not get divorced and not sell the house and basically never falter in any way, shape, or form?
“Dad, I wish we’d known you were so stressed about money,” I venture tentatively.
“Oh, sweetheart.” Immediately his easy veneer snaps over his face. “Don’t worry about that.” He flashes me a confident “Tony Talbot” smile, and I clutch my forehead.
“Dad. Stop. I’m not a child anymore. Tell me. If you’d just told me the truth that time I found Krista photographing the bureau, instead of biting my head off…”
As I replay that scene, I see it so differently now. Dad was defensive. Embarrassed. He couldn’t bear to admit the truth—that he had money problems—so he went on the attack.
Dad gazes back for a few silent seconds, then his expression changes and he rubs his cheek. “You’re right, Effie. I behaved badly that day. I apologize. And it’s true, I forget that you’re adults. Well, all right.” He takes a gulp of whisky, then says frankly, “Things became pretty scary. All my own fault. When Mimi and I broke up, it was obvious that our assets would be split and that we would have to sell Greenoaks.”
“I never even thought about…” I pause, embarrassed. “Financial arrangements.”
“Well, why would you?” Dad gives me a sudden penetrating look. “Darling, please know that there wasn’t any acrimony. Mimi received a fair settlement. We were both satisfied. But…it changed things. Of course it did. My financial planning hadn’t included a divorce.”
There’s a pause as he sips his drink again, and I find myself wondering who he’s had to talk about this with.
“And the more I thought about selling Greenoaks…the harder I found the prospect.” He gives a long sigh as he glances around the room. “This house feels like more than a house, somehow. Do you know what I mean?”
Silently, I nod.
“So I decided to see if I couldn’t make one almighty push to keep Greenoaks. That was my huge, terrible error.” He gazes down into his glass. “I took some big investment risks. Broke all my own rules. If I’d been my own client…” He shakes his head. “But there was no one to stop me. And I had a degree of hubris,” he adds candidly. “I thought I was better at this game than I was.”
“What happened?” I say fearfully.
“Oh, nemesis, of course. It was pretty catastrophic.” Dad speaks lightly, but his eyes are serious. “There were a hellish couple of weeks when I feared we might end up not just without Greenoaks but without any home at all. That’s when I handed over the reins of family life to Krista. I couldn’t think about anything except my desperate salvage operation.” He pauses, as though rerunning events in his mind. “The trouble is, I never took the reins back. It was easy to let Krista run things. I trusted her.”
“So…are things OK now?” I hardly dare ask the question.