Page 44 of Landlord Wars
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Max
My motherrarely called me to the house, but today she had insisted.
I let myself into the mansion on Franklin Street and made my way to her private salon. Dozens of priceless paintings covered the paneled wood-and-fabric walls, and there had to be an equal amount of art spread over the furniture in the large room. Every table held marble and fine-jeweled curios, along with silver and crystal serving wear. The furniture was upholstered in bright shades and patterns, with pillows to match. Some might call it high style; I called it blinding.
Expecting a pitch to invest in my father’s development project, I searched the room for my mother. But she wasn’t the only person here today.
My mother didn’t immediately catch sight of me—not with my entrance on the far end. And not with all the commotion.
A woman, bent at the waist, was dragging a plant twice her size slowly across the floor, scraping the pot noisily against the hardwood. “Over here?” she asked in a lightly winded but familiar voice.
I looked sharply at my mother standing in front of floor-to-ceiling paned windows, heat spiraling up my neck
“I changed my mind,” my mother said, tapping her lip, focused on the circus she’d created and not my presence. “I’d like it on the other side of the room.”
Unable to stand it any longer, I said, “What is going on?”
My mother spun her head in my direction, her face brightening at the same time Sophia’s head snapped up and her lips parted in surprise.
Sophia’s light-pink blouse featured a dirt smudge down the front, and my blood boiled. No telling how long my mother had enslaved her with a half-dead sixty-pound plant inside the ancestral home.
Had my mother sniffed out my interest in Jack’s roommate? I wouldn’t be surprised if Kitty had hired a private investigator to look into my personal life. She was a wily one, and she wanted me to marry a society woman.
“Maxwell, you’ve arrived,” my mother said, her gaze sliding to the far corner of the room—where Gwen was sitting primly on a robin’s-egg-blue velvet couch, sipping coffee from hundred-year-old china.
“Max,” Gwen said and set her drink on the mahogany table that had been in this room since I was a toddler. My mother wasn’t a hoarder, per se, like Sophia’s mom, but she had her share of clutter. Just really expensive clutter.
Gwen glanced at Sophia, who quickly brushed soil from her hands, avoiding my eyes. “Josie Gates hired Green Aesthetic, and she raved about their design,” Gwen said. “I forwarded the tip to your mother.” She smiled at my mom. “Aren’t they just fabulous, Kitty? They even move plants during a consult.”
Sophia turned away as though ashamed.
Disgust and rage coursed through me. Gwen’s actions were somewhat surprising, but not entirely. My mother’s, however, were more so, and I’d never been more ashamed.
Moving plants was not a part of Sophia’s job duties. But my mother never thought about things like that, and neither did Gwen, which I’d realized too late in our relationship.
Head held high, Sophia brushed back a few strands of hair that had fallen in her face and grabbed a worn leather bag next to the floral couch with a weird bamboo base I never could figure out. She gave my mother a stiff smile. “I’ll draw up some design suggestions and get them to you later.” She hurried toward the door.
I subtly reached for her arm as she passed. “Are you okay?”
She shook off my touch and kept walking, her face flushed.
I wanted to run after her and apologize, but I got the sense she wouldn’t welcome it. Not right now.
I leveled a look at my mother. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“My, my!” Kitty said. “Don’t be so dramatic, Maxwell. I’m hiring a designer. I met Sophia at your rooftop party, and then Gwen recommended her.”
Gwen glanced between us nervously, but she didn’t say anything, and she didn’t get up to leave.
I crossed my arms. It was possible my mother knew nothing about my interest in Sophia, but she’d humiliated a friend. “Sophia is a highly educated, skilled designer. Ordering her to move heavy objects is not a part of her job. Not to mention it’s insulting.”
My mother rolled her eyes. “Pish. I was nice, wasn’t I, Gwenny?”
Gwen delivered a charming smile to my mother. “Of course.”
Bullshit. I could only imagine how Sophia had felt being bossed around by a rich client. She probably hadn’t believed she could say no. And then there was Gwen, coddling my mother’s ego. “I’m leaving,” I said.
