My older brother, well, he’d done exactly what Daddy had wanted. He’d gone to Harvard Business School and now stood at the helm of Kavanaugh Incorporated, the massive empire our father had built. Did he enjoy doing it? I had no idea. My older brother was a complete mystery to me. Except for what he thought of me, that he made crystal clear. I was a screw-up, an embarrassment, a child masquerading as a grown up, yada yada.
The only two people I enjoyed seeing were my little sister Gigi and my grandmother. They could do no wrong. At 19, Gigi had everyone wrapped around her finger, myself included. She didn’t even try to do it. That was her secret. She’d clearly taken after my grandmother who always got exactly what she wanted simply by being the kind of person you really didn’t want to disappoint. She believed in me. She always told me that at exactly the right moment, as if she saw right into my soul and discerned some quality of character or potential even I didn’t recognize I had.
With one last deep breath of cold, fresh air, I told myself there was no time like the present. I bit the proverbial bullet and headed up into the fray. The elevator doors parted directly into my grandmother’s home.
“Asher. So good of you to come.” A butler held open the door to the Upper East Side home, but Gram met me at the entrance, her bright blue eyes brimming with pleasure at the sight of me.
“Hi, Gram. Looking good.” My grandmother could wear a wool suit with pearls like nobody’s business. Like they were made for her. Actually, they probably were, custom tailored from a tiny shop that mostly catered to the royals. Gram’s father had been in the House of Lords and she had married a peer, though he’d passed before I was born.
She kissed me on both cheeks, then drew her arm through my own. I took comfort in her vigor. At 83, I knew she was old on paper, but Gram seeming old in person would really fuck me up.
“They’re gathering in the drawing room. Shall I have Thomas fix you a drink?”
“You read my mind.”
“And old fashioned, if you please,” she spoke to the side. Thomas nodded, then tucked into the butler’s pantry to do her bidding. “Colton’s fuming about you,” she informed me in classic Gram style, somehow managing to make me feel as if she were on my team, warning me without judging. “He’s extremely vexed over something or other.”
“Yeah, there’s this video on YouTube. Makes me look pretty bad.”
“Oh, well,” she scoffed. “People wasting time on that kind of drivel aren’t worthy of your attention, now are they, dear?” She patted my hand. Case closed. She really was a golden egg in the midst of a mile-wide trough of pig slop. In my experience, most people in this world tended to disappoint. Better to expect it than get blindsided later. But that had never happened with Gram.
“Asher!” A small bundle of strawberry blonde hair and a huge smile came flying at me.
“Gigi!” I gave my little sister a huge hug. She’d taken after Gram, petite and ladylike, yet also somehow unpretentious. “How you been?”
“Missing you!” she exclaimed, linking through my other arm.
“Allow me to show you in.” Gram led me into a high-ceilinged room with ornate draperies framing floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Central Park. Paintings in giant frames, each with its own lighting, covered most of the remaining walls.
My older brother, Colt, stood by the fireplace, drink in hand, looking like he belonged in a period piece set in Victorian England. OK, mostly it was the setting around him but he truly fit in, shoulders back, spine straight, chin angled such that he looked down his stern nose at me. Vexed, indeed.
My younger brother, Heath, lurked over in the shadows in the furthest corner of the room, dark and angry with a giant beard. He clearly wished he were anywhere else. Last I heard he was living in Vermont in a one-room cabin with no running water. At first that had sounded insane to me, but lately I saw the appeal in getting away from it all. I nodded at him briefly and he gave me a swift nod in response. I hear you, bro, I wanted to say. I don’t want to be here, either. We weren’t close, but I’d always respected Heath. At 24 he’d become one badass bearded mountain man. I wouldn’t get on his bad side.
My great-aunt Gertrude sat ramrod straight on a richly upholstered settee with a teacup suspended mid-air en route to her mouth. Perhaps etiquette required pausing one’s consumption of beverages upon the entrance of a new party into a room. A year or two younger than Gram, I knew Great Aunt Gertrude was a stickler for manners, preferably the absurdly outdated kind.
The leather chair my father had favored—as large and overbearing as his personality—remained empty. It felt so strange to not see him in it. I’d fought him so hard all my life. Now that he was gone I almost felt unmoored.
“Allow me to introduce you to our newest arrivals.” Gram turned to another couple in the room.
I knew who they were straight away, before she said another word. The big, dark guy had to be the Montana rancher who claimed to be my father’s long-lost son. The pretty little thing by his side looked like Miss America, all blonde, blue-eyed and glowingly pink-cheeked.
“Declan, Kara, this is Asher.” Gram offered me up to them. I tried to get away with nodding my hello, but the beauty queen wasn’t having it.
“Hey! Oh my goodness! It’s so fun to meet you!” She rushed over with enthusiasm, taking my hand in both of hers. “This is all such a surprise, learning about Declan’s family, and then when we found out about you! Ash Black!” She put her hand to her chest in pantomimed shock and I had to admit, she gave me the start of a smile.
“I love your music! I really do. My favorite is singing along with you when I’m driving in my truck!”
“Cool.” I had to love it. She was just what the Kavanaugh family needed, a truck-driving Ash Black fan. They looked around my age, Declan maybe a few years older. He had my father’s big bear of a frame, and I saw the Kavanaugh stubbornness written all over his face. His jaw set, he didn’t look like he wanted to be here either. Huh. He might be legit after all. My brother Colt had to be livid. I decided to like them.
“You guys should come to one of my shows. I‘ll set you up back stage.”
“What?! That’s crazy! You’re the best!” She flew back to Declan’s side, looking up at him adoringly. “I knew he’d be great!” she declared.
Declan nodded at his wife, clearly somewhat less of an Ash Black fan but just as clearly a big fan of Kara.
“New Year’s I’m playing Vegas. You guys should come.”
“Maybe. Thank you.” Declan gave me a tempered thanks. OK. My new Montana half-brother. Interesting.
Then my stepmonster Brandi swept in, all boobs. My father hadn’t exactly broken the mold with his second wife, opting for the 20-years-younger surgically enhanced model. It was like buying a flashy, cherry red Porsche in your middle age, only my father had always been more of a Bentley or Aston Martin guy so Brandi had come as something of a surprise.
“I’m so sorry Dominic isn’t here,” Brandi apologized to nobody in particular. “He really wanted to come. But something came up.” They’d gotten married about five years ago and I’d met her son, my stepbrother Dominic, maybe twice. His glowering, dark and silent presence made Heath look like a social party animal.
“Now that we’re all here.” Gram drew everyone’s attention, standing fireside with Colt. Her butler Thomas slipped me an old fashioned. Just in time. “Let me first say, I’m very excited to see you all at tomorrow’s Christmas party. It’s going to be spectacular. Thank you very much to Gigi for all of her help with the arrangements.”
Starting to pass the mantle, I got it. She’d skipped right over my stepmother, Brandi. Gram was right, Gigi would be the one to keep up the tradition.
Nelson, our attorney, slipped into the room, silent as the grave. He had to be in his 60s, maybe 70s by now, but he still looked slim and spry. I caught his eye and mouthed the words, “Did you get my message?”
He nodded briefly in affirmation, then swiftly returned his attention to
Gram. He didn’t want to be the one caught being naughty in class. Earlier, I’d messaged him about Anika Ivanov, requesting a standard background check. My gut told me she was squeaky clean in every way, but we needed to be 100% sure. Nelson’s people were the ones to do it fast and with discretion.
Nelson took the floor and got right to it, addressing the ramifications of an additional beneficiary to my father’s will. His British accent made him sound either awfully formal or a bit sarcastic. Sometimes both. Honestly, I didn’t listen. I wasn’t inheriting anything, anyway. I was there for Gram. But I did like seeing Brandi squirm with displeasure and I got a kick out of watching the smoke come out of Colt’s ears. He didn’t like this new development one bit.
“You two are roughly the same age,” Nelson pointed out, looking at him. “Declan’s 27.”
“I’m 28,” Colt declared, and even he must have known he sounded like an arrogant jerk, engaging in sibling rivalry, pulling rank. CEO Colt was as alpha as they came. All of us guys were, really. Maybe that was why we knocked heads so much.
After Nelson had said his piece, Gram resumed the stage. She also got right to the point. “As you all know, I am currently 83 years old. Yet the only one of you married is Declan.” She looked over at Declan and Kara. “May I again offer my congratulations to you both. Refresh my memory, when was the happy day?”
“Two weeks ago.” Hey, Declan could smile. A big, broad one, too.
“Well done.” Gram gave her blessing. But then she turned to the rest of us. “As for you, Colton, Asher, Heathcliff and Georgiana.” Such a mouthful, what had our parents been thinking when they’d named us? I was sure Gram had a strong hand in it. “I expect each of you to be married in the next five years. The thought of turning 90 without all of you properly settled is preposterous.”
It wasn’t the first time she’d reminded me of British actress Maggie Smith. Giving us a marriage ultimatum, was she now?
“Asher,” she turned to me just as I was taking a sip of my old fashioned. “I’d like you to get married first.”
I nearly choked. Hand to my mouth, I looked up at her for a sign of humor. Unfortunately, I saw nothing but direct sincerity in those sparkling blue eyes.
“He’s too busy breaking hearts,” Colt mumbled. I rolled my eyes.
“I’m sure it wasn’t as bad as it looked,” Gigi hushed him. Always the peacemaker.
“If he could just keep out of the headlines for a single goddamned day,” Colt grumbled.