“Hi, Mrs. Harrison,” I say politely. “If you’re looking for Isabelle, she’s still asleep.”
She turns to look at me, noticing that I’m not wearing as much as I probably should, and averts her eyes. Well, serves her right for showing up unannounced. I chose to stay in the pool room for privacy reasons. I don’t apologize for the lack of clothing, and I also won’t excuse myself to throw anything else on.
“Knox dear, I actually came by to talk to you.”
I raise my eyebrows, surprised that she’d have any reason at all to want to deal with me about an item. “Me? I’m not sure how I can help you, but I’ll do my best.”
“It’s about Isabelle.”
Wow. Well fuck, I’m nowhere near ready to have a one-on-one with the mother of the woman in my bed. We don’t even know what we are to each other yet.
“What about her?”
“I was curious as to whether you’ve noticed how tired and weak she seems lately. Has she been sleeping okay? Is she eating? She looks so thin. Too thin.”
I shrug my shoulders, even though I do agree with her observations. I won’t get between women, and I refuse to be a part of the he said, she said drama that usually results from it. “All I’m aware of is that she seemed to be fighting off a bug,” I tell her.
“Interesting. I’ll make a note to pick up something at the pharmacy when Joseph and I go into town later.”
“Sounds great. That should help.” I shove my hands into my pocket then realize that the move has pushed the waistband of my sweatpants even lower, revealing some of my pubic hairs. Quickly, I adjust the pants and let my hands drop to my sides. “Is there anything else? If there is, we can probably speak a little later when Isabelle wakes up.”
“In fact, there is something. I’d just like to say that Joseph and I are thrilled that you and our daughter are back in each other’s lives again.”
“Thanks,” I answer to keep it short, but she opens her mouth to continue.
“You were always such great friends. We hoped you’d remain close over the years, and although you lost touch for a while, it’s a relief to see how easily the two of you have hit it off… as friends, of course. Or perhaps there’s more?”
Now I get it. She’s here to see whether our friendship has developed or evolved. Isabelle and I haven’t put any labels on our closeness, so I’m not about to insinuate a thing her mother.
“That’s definitely a conversation you should have with Isabelle,” I say, dismissing the topic as respectfully as I can.
“Well, of course, but I’d love to hear your take on how things are going. Your grandfather was saying that you weren’t too keen on the idea of getting serious right now. Joseph and I would just like you to know that we have Isabelle’s best interest at heart.”
“I do as well.”
“That’s excellent. I’m sure you know how it is, with Joseph being in the public eye. He’s under constant scrutiny by his constituents, and so are his family members, by extension.”
“I’m not sure if I get what you’re trying to say. Are you telling me that Isabelle and I should avoid being seen together?”
“Oh dear, not at all. Although, that’s more of a moot point now.” She picks up the newspaper that she brought in with her, and stretches her arm toward me.
“What’s this?” I ask and take it.
“Page eleven should explain it.”
I unfold the paper and flip the pages. When I make it to page eleven, I see what her visit is really about. Fuck. There’s a picture of Isabelle and me, sitting at a local fast food place. It’s from the night we drove into town. It’s a decent picture. She’s on one side of a red and white checkered table, and I’m on the other side, holding a burger a few inches from my mouth with two hands. It’s the clearly biased headline and subheading that’s a little disconcerting. They read:
Political Royalty Rubs Shoulders with Hamptons One Percenters
State Senator and Family: Out of Touch with the Common Man
“I didn’t know about this article,” I explain. “I apologize if it’s been harmful to Senator Harrison.”
“Look, that drivel is harmless. They’ve said much worse about Morris over the years. You and Isabelle are good friends. The two of you shouldn’t have to worry about silly political commentary…unless of course there’s more between you, beyond the purview of a platonic friendship.”
This woman has begun to speak in code. It’s the language of politicians—just a stone’s throw from layman’s English, but in its own league, and thoroughly incomprehensible.
“Sorry, I still have no clue what you just said. If you’re asking me to keep my public appearances with Isabelle on the conservative, more platonic side, you have nothing to worry about. We’re friends after all.”
“Oh, I see. I appreciate that,” she tells me, sounding disappointed that I won’t admit to a damn thing. “I’m probably mistaken. I thought Morris said there was a spark between the two of you.”
I shake my head. “No disrespect, Mrs. Harrison, but there’s nothing Pops would love more than to see sparks fly between his grandson and your daughter, or with any other eligible woman or young socialite from our circle of friends. He’s itching to see me walk down the aisle, and had no qualms trying to make me drag your daughter to the Hamptons this weekend in the hopes of some kind of instant love connection. Again, I’ll leave that to Isabelle to have a conversation with you on it.”
“Completely understandable.” Tucking the magazine under her arm, she stands up from the bar stool, walks over to the sink, and dumps the rest of her coffee down the drain. “Keep the paper. Will you let Isabelle know I’d like to speak with her once she’s awake and
