I hug her tightly. “Promise? Say it again; say, ‘You’re super-skinny, Cassie. I’ve never seen you this skinny. Are you sick? Do you feel okay?’”
She laughs. “You’re terrible.”
Standing at the counter, I fill my mug with coffee, aware that Eleanor and Lawrence are watching me. “So.” I spear a piece of melon. “What’s the latest? Good news? Bad news? Possible windfalls? Last-minute reversals?”
“We’re set,” Lawrence says. “DeFiore texted from the courthouse. Billy is being transported over. Now we’re debating who should drive to Trenton.”
“Why is it a debate? Aren’t we all going?”
“We are,” Eleanor says. “So is Burt. He’ll meet us there.” When Lawrence starts to protest, she cuts him off. “For moral support. Burt has known Billy all his life.”
“Billy can’t stand Burt. He doesn’t need or want his support.”
“Moral support for me, Lawrence. Burt is showing up for me.”
I try to de-escalate the tension. “What about Diana Holly? Have we heard anything about her?”
For some reason this makes Eleanor laugh.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
She looks at Lawrence. “How similarly your minds work, as if you’re both on a single track.”
I turn to look at him too. “What’s she talking about?”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” Eleanor corrects him.
Lawrence rolls his eyes. “I made one phone call last night. Just one call, to the girl’s father, but he didn’t pick up and I didn’t leave a message. Nothing came of it, but Eleanor is convinced that because of my grievous error, they’ll ship Billy to Leavenworth and throw away the key.”
“For God’s sake, Lawrence,” Eleanor says. “Why would you contact the father of a girl who accused our son of sexual battery and felony rape?”
Lawrence throws up his hands. “He didn’t rape her.”
“That’s not the point.” She stares at him, unblinking, and for a long moment, they don’t move.
“Okay,” Lawrence concedes. “It was stupid.” Exhaling, he blows out a mouthful of air. “I just thought if we could talk, dad to dad, I could make him see that a trial would be just as tough on his daughter. He doesn’t want to watch her life get ripped apart, and her reputation trashed, any more than we want that for Billy. No one wins. That’s all I wanted to say, Eleanor—”
“This isn’t some deal you can finesse through back-door channels. The girl and her father are our adversaries.” Eleanor’s voice breaks. “Lawrence, why is this happening? Billy did nothing to deserve this.”
“Come here.” He beckons to her, but she doesn’t move. “Honey, I promise. Billy will be fine. We’ll clear this up, bring him home, and resume our lives. And you’re right. It was a mistake. But I honestly thought he and I could figure this out.”
“Stay off the phone, Lawrence.” She glances at me. “Cassie, dear . . .” She points to my legs. “Find darker stockings. Please, for my sake. Those make your legs look naked.” Reflexively, I bend down, but before I can reply, she pulls open the French doors and steps out onto the balcony.
Nothing knocks Lawrence off-balance like his wife’s disapproval. “I’ll be right back,” he says and follows behind her.
*
Eleanor uses the terrace as a means of escape, even in the dead of winter. It’s more like a heated solarium, with a wet bar, full bathroom, and Zen rock garden. I watch through the beveled glass as Lawrence tries to return to her good graces. Brushing Eleanor’s hair off her forehead, he looks into her eyes. As he talks, her body relaxes. Soon, she nods, and this time, when he opens his arms, she lets him embrace her. For one long, tender minute, they sway together, as if dancing to silent music.
Suddenly, Lawrence jerks up his head, as if reminded of something. Looking at me over Eleanor’s shoulder, he raises a finger. Nodding, I thumb through the Wall Street Journal, but ten minutes later, he still hasn’t emerged. Just as I’m about to leave, Lawrence rushes into the kitchen. “Cassie, hold on.”
“I need to change my tights,” I say tersely.
“They’re fine.” He tries to catch my eye. “You’re mad. At me? What did I do?”
“I’m not mad, I’m upset . . .”
“Cassie, spit it out.”
“Why don’t you want me to go to court? You did the same thing yesterday with the DeFiore meeting. What’s the deal?”
“Cassie, listen, today’s appearance doesn’t matter. It will be over before it starts. I don’t think Eleanor or Nate should go either. This family needs to be as far away from that courthouse as possible.”
“What about the Bowtie’s idea for a united front?”
“Burt made one passing remark that Eleanor has hooked on to.” Lawrence seizes my shoulders. “Billy is innocent. We all know that. But this girl has set a machine in motion, and given the timing and politics, his innocence may not matter. If this case goes to trial, it will blow up into a media circus. I’m trying to protect us, that’s all.”
I consider this. “You’re sure it’s not about me?”
He sighs. “What about you, Cassandra?”
I don’t expect Lawrence to focus on my problems, but I can’t escape them, especially when I’m home. It’s more accurate, for instance, to call my difficult period in high school a complete unraveling. At the time, I told my parents I was fighting with Avery, my best friend since preschool. And while we did have an argument, a bitter one, my breakdown was the result of other events, with Marcus at the white-hot center. The truth is, Marcus was married, and despite his promises, would never leave his wife. It was a confusing experience, to love someone who lets you down, over and over. I was ashamed and obsessive, joyful and reckless. It was like a tornado, and I pitched into the vortex with abandon, only to find myself stripped of confidence and dignity—and alone.
Marcus Silver’s gravitational pull was so strong I lost myself around him. When times were good, they were fantastic. But there was no bottom, and the only way to survive was to escape. So, I left him. （Then went back. Left again. Went back again.） Then I left town. I’ve since recovered, although his draw is still intense. Even now, the thought of him unmoors me, so I’m careful not to leave myself open.
You know the worst part? I have only myself to blame. I came on strong; I gave him no room to fend me off. He did say no, by the way. But I kept pushing until he gave in. You can’t choose who you love, but you can choose how you behave. I behaved atrociously. Which is why it’s too mortifying to talk about.
“What about you, Cassandra?” Lawrence repeats.
I’m exhausting, I know. Still, I can’t help myself. “Maybe you’re worried the press will find out about Avery and the . . . you know . . .” Embarrassed, I trail off. “Maybe you’re worried that people will judge me, judge us. And if they judge us, Billy will lose.”
“Of course, I’m worried.” Lawrence looks incredulous. “But not just because of Billy. Cassie, I’m worried about how this may affect you. I don’t want any part of your private life exposed.”