Upstairs Downstairs Baby. Cat Schield

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       Two

      When Linc returned home from the gym, Claire’s car wasn’t in the driveway. She’d finalized the menu for his dinner party the night before and was likely shopping for ingredients. He was excited to have her cooking for his friends. Her culinary skills were fantastic. In fact, he was surprised she hadn’t gone to work for a restaurant when she’d first moved to Charleston.

      He’d asked her about it once and she’d explained about the long hours and how she’d struggled finding childcare. As he’d listened to her talk about her challenges being a single mom, he appreciated that she wanted to put her daughter’s needs first. Still, he sensed there was more to the story. She seemed to lack confidence in her ability. Which made no sense. She cooked like a dream.

      Maybe he’d put too much pressure on her. This was the first time he’d entertained since moving into the Battery Street house. While he and London had been together, she’d insisted on hosting all events. At first, he’d agreed because the house he’d purchased had gone through almost three years of renovations and wasn’t the ideal place to entertain. But once the home had been restored to its former glory, his fiancée had been unable to relinquish control. Linc had begun to see their relationship wasn’t the give-and-take partnership he craved. Too bad he hadn’t realized this before proposing marriage.

      Linc set his gym bag on a bar stool and rummaged in the refrigerator for something that would take the edge off his post-workout appetite. Claire always had snacks ready for him. Today was no exception. A quick glance at the clock confirmed that he had only an hour before his mother expected him for lunch. He was running late thanks to an impromptu shopping detour he’d made on the way to the gym. It had occurred to him as he was leaving the house that Claire had been working for him for a year. He’d neglected to mark the anniversary last week and decided to rectify the error. A few doors down from the gym was a boutique run by Theresa Owens, a friend of his sister Sawyer’s from high school. He’d popped in to buy a small token.

      After polishing off a turkey and Swiss cheese sandwich and a bowl of mixed berries, Linc rummaged for a pen to sign the card that would accompany the whimsical asymmetrical silver earrings embellished with turquoise, tourmaline and opal. He’d chosen earrings because aside from her plain wedding band, earrings were the only accessories he’d ever seen Claire wear.

      Was it weird that he had bought Claire such a personal gift? He’d considered cash or a gift card but liked the idea of something he’d put thought into. Jewelry was a natural go-to purchase for him. His mother and sister both loved receiving sparkly earrings and necklaces. When he was a kid, there’d been little money available for such things. It made him feel good to be able to spoil the women in his life. And he knew they appreciated it.

      Linc left the card and the jewelry box on the breakfast bar where Claire was sure to find them and headed upstairs to shower and change. His mother expected him to arrive at her house promptly at noon, wearing pressed trousers, a crisp shirt and a blazer. Money might have been in short supply while his mother had been young, but her upbringing had been rich in Southern custom.

      Linc’s grandmother had clung to memories of wealth and power long after her husband had sold their South of Broad home to a wealthy gentleman from “off”—a man who had no history in the city. Keeping up with private school tuition and social pressures, as well as the increased expense of maintaining the large historic houses, had meant difficult choices for many old Charleston families.

      Yet, despite the downturn in his financial circumstances, Linc’s grandfather had retained enough status to keep his family afloat socially. Linc’s mother had never given up her dream of returning her family to its former glory, not even when her husband proved no more financially astute than her father had been, and his embezzlement scheme caused the government to seize their property and bank accounts.

      That was why as soon as he signed his first pro contract, Linc had made sure to set his mother up in the sort of Charleston house that would provide Bettina the level of comfort her mother had known growing up. The Mills-Forrest House was located on King Street, South of Broad. Built in 1790, it had been extensively restored and renovated by Knox Smith to provide Bettina with the best blend of historic charm and modern function.

      Knox was Linc’s best friend. A real estate developer, he’d worked hard on transforming the city of Charleston to its former glory. During their twenties, the two bachelors had spent a significant amount of time tearing up the town and breaking hearts. They’d been quite the dynamic duo.

      Twenty minutes later, as he entered his mother’s parlor, Linc was once again struck by a wave of gratitude that he could do this for her. She was in her element, holding court from a comfortable chintz armchair by the fireplace.

      “Good afternoon, Mother. You look splendid today.” Linc crossed the room and bent down to kiss Bettina’s soft cheek.

      He lingered a second and inhaled her rose perfume, smiling at the memory of snuggling on her lap when he was young. Even after his sister came along and monopolized their mother’s time, Bettina always made sure she hugged her son before he went to bed.

      “Of course I look splendid,” his mother shot back tartly, her eyes twinkling. “I had a facial yesterday that took ten years off.”

      She squeezed his hand and then indicated the chair beside the sofa where she sat. On the side table was a silver bell. She picked it up and gave it a vigorous ring. A thin woman with gray-streaked blond hair appeared at the parlor door.

      Dolly had been with his mother for ten years and the two women had developed a snarky, passive-aggressive relationship that worked for them. As outwardly hostile as his mother was toward the housekeeper, Linc was certain Bettina secretly enjoyed the ongoing battle. In turn, Dolly wasn’t without a spine and often gave as good as she got. Linc didn’t understand why she stayed. Dolly could have found less stressful employment in a dozen homes.

      “Linc needs a martini,” his mother proclaimed.

      “No, thank you. Just some sparkling water with a lime.” He bit down on the admonition that it was too early to start drinking, knowing his mother would simply ignore him.

      “I’ll have a bourbon with ice. Make sure you use the good stuff.” Before Dolly was out of earshot, Bettina turned to Linc. “She’s been giving me some swill she claims is from Grady’s distillery. As if I haven’t been drinking bourbon all my life and wouldn’t know the difference.”

      Grady was Linc’s cousin on his mother’s side. Now that bourbon had been “rediscovered” by the masses, the trend seemed to be everyone with a little pocket change slapping a label on a barrel and calling it craft bourbon. Linc considered most of it swill. However, after attending one of Grady’s tasting parties, Linc had been impressed enough to back his cousin’s venture. So far, Grady hadn’t gone bankrupt, so Linc figured his cousin must be doing something right.

      “Tell me about your dinner party tomorrow night,” Bettina said, turning her bright blue eyes on Linc. “Who all is invited?”

      “The СКАЧАТЬ