Page 18 of She Doesn't Have a Clue
“It’s not ridiculous,” Steven said in a tone that made it clear how many times he’d tried—and failed—to convince Rebecca otherwise. “It’sa sound investment opportunity and my buyer is willing to pay cash up front, sight unseen.”
“Yes, yourbuyer,” Rebecca said with a sneer. “I know the type of buyer you’re talking about, and I’d rather see Hempstead Island sink into the ocean than give a filthy little man like that claim to our historical fame. Does the cash come in sweaty, glitter-stained one-dollar bills?”
“Rico is a reputable businessman—”
“Oh, sure, the illustrious owner of the Diamond Cabaret, wanted at all the most exclusive clubs in the Islands—”
“You can’t do this!” Richie burst out, slamming his hands on the table and drawing attention. Even Cassidy paused her speech, looking down at her paper at a loss for words.
“Control yourself, Richard,” Rebecca said in a voice dripping with disdain. “You’re clearly drunk and you’re embarrassing the Hempstead name. It’s bad enough Kennedy invited her cousin. Debt up to her eyeballs from a food truck, of all things, and she had the nerve to show up here begging for handouts and making ludicrous accusations. It’s no wonder Alexi cut her off finally. The girl can barely hold herself together. Look at her.”
Rebecca made a gesture toward Cassidy stammering her way through the speech, and something in the movement triggered a memory for Kate. That same floral pattern, reaching out a perfectly manicured hand to slap Cassidy. She smothered her gasp in her hands. Rebecca had been the one arguing with Cassidy in the garden, and judging by her comment about debt up to her eyeballs, Kate could imagine what Cassidy had been begging for. But what kind of accusations would a woman like Rebecca Hempstead find ludicrous?
“It’s not fair, Aunt Rebecca,” Richie said, his tone approaching a plaintive whine. “You can’t cut the rest of the family out like this. There are rules, requirements for the inheritance.”
Rebecca spread her hands wide. “It’s already done, Richard. The inspector from the historical society is here this weekend as my personal guest to sign off on all the paperwork, and then it goes to the board for the final vote. I’ve already got the five-three majority I need. And do you know what that means?”
“That you’re a heartless, soul-sucking bitch?” Richie guessed.
The smile she gave him was so cruelly dismissive that Kate felt the whiplash just sitting next to him. Rebecca leaned forward, pressing her hands against the table, her nails digging into the flesh-colored linens. “It means I’ll never have to hear another one of your coma-inducing inheritance pitches ever again. I’ll never have to field another lawsuit from the loser side of the family, whining that they deserve money for nothing. I’ll never have to attend another gala for goddamn feral cats because Kennedy insisted on picking a charitable organization close to her heart. Not a single one of you has worked a decent day in your lives, and you represent everything my grandfather stood against. Maybe now you’ll finally get off your ass and do something useful, Richard.”
“Holy shit,” Kate breathed as Richie deflated in his chair like a balloon with a leak. Was anyone actually happy this wedding weekend was happening? Was this how all wealthy families conducted themselves? Kate was suddenly glad to know she’d never have the wealth to find out.
“Who are you?” Rebecca asked, looking at her in annoyance.
“Oh,” Kate said in surprise, trying to stand and rattling the table when her chair got stuck. “Ms. Hempstead, it’s such a pleasure. I’m Kate? Kate Valentine?”
“Is that a question? Are you unsure of your own identity?” Rebecca asked.
“No?” Kate said, feeling turned upside down. “I… You… I’m Kate Valentine. The writer?”
Should she have brought a copy of her book for reference? Maybe strike a pose like her author photo on the back cover? But Rebecca’s expression relaxed, as if Kate were no longer a threat. “I see, one of Spencer’s people. Welcome.”
Was she playing coy? Or did she not want her nephew to know she’d personally invited Kate for the weekend?
“I’m sure we’ll get a chance to connect later—” Kate started, but the lawyer had kept his peace too long.
“It’ll go to court, Rebecca, you have to know that,” Steven burst out. “Richie is right, you can’t make these kinds of decisions unilaterally.”
“Bring your best, Steven. I’ll make mincemeat of you by lunchtime.” Rebecca snapped her fingers at a passing waiter. “Bring me a glass of champagne. The Dom Pérignon.”
“Oh, uh, I’m sorry, miss,” said the waiter, juggling a tray of dessert plates that Kate eyed with interest. “We only have sparkling wine for the guests this evening. Will that do?”
“No, that will not do,” Rebecca said, turning the force of her irritation on the poor man.
“I’m sorry, it’s house orders,” he said, shrinking. “The Dom is for the bride only?”
“Do you know who gave you those orders?” Rebecca asked in a soft voice that was still razor sharp. When the waiter hesitated, she lifted her brows slightly in impatience. Whoever did her Botox injections did an exquisite job of allowing her forehead to move. “I did, because this ismy house. I am Rebecca Hempstead. So if I want a glass of Dom, you will find me a fucking glass of Dom, or the next plate you serve will come with fries and a super-size drink.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Hempstead,” the man stammered, stepping back and nearly colliding with another passing server. “I’ll, uh, I’ll ask at the bar.”
“Never mind,” Rebecca snapped, dismissing him with a curt wave. “I’ll get it myself.”
“Oh, Ms. Hempstead!” Kate called, her chair still trapping her. “Ms. Hempstead, if we could just speak for a moment—”
But Rebecca had disappeared in the direction of the bar as Cassidy stepped away from the microphone in relief. Everyone clapped as Kennedy took her place, giving a soft smile that sparkled under the harsh spotlight, and Kate was forced to slump back quietly into her seat. Kennedy’s diamond pendant winked along with the crystals on her dress, making her look like she was made of starlight.
“Friends, family, loved ones,” she began, her voice tremulous. “Thank you so much for joining us on this magical weekend. It means so much to have everyone we love and admire here to celebrate with us.”