Heir Born

15 | Summer

Saturdays are when I get to really unwind. Father usually goes off to play golf with his friends, and mother holes herself up in her studio for most of the day. No calls and no meetings means she can actually do some art. Peace and quiet. 

Of course I could be the model student and get an assignment or two done. But I'm so wound up still from Thursday. Nate didn't show up to school yesterday... totally unexpected. Maybe he had some Vanderbilt stuff to do. And why wouldn't he when he's Junior CEO of Vanderbilt Foundation? 

And, yes. It is absolutely normal to have this very specific, very public information in my arsenal about Nate. I may need it one of these days. A girl has got to be prepared.

Within an hour, sitting on the patio staring at my laptop starts to bore me. I grab my phone. Look at the time. 12pm. And no messages. Nate was supposed to be here at 10am for our interview. 

I put my phone down, doing a shitty job of not getting annoyed. I exhale and decide to get back to my article... The Times' leading story for Saturday: 'The Vanderbilt Lennox Showdown'. 

Of course they have to use our names to move some real numbers.

The article has hyperlinks that takes readers to the Vanderbilt Foundation website and our Lennox Foundation one as well. Curiosity gets the better of me and I click on Vanderbilt Foundation, which lands me right on the 'About the Foundation' page. Before I know it, I'm deep in Nate's Junior CEO bio. You'd swear I was studying for some exam the way my eyes I glued to my laptop screen.

"That's very... interesting." I practically jump out of my chair. I don't see or hear Bess come up behind me. 

"Bess! You scared me half to death." I catch my breath. 

She gives me a look that pointedly begs tells me my fright is because I'm lurking where I shouldn't be.

"It's... research. For the interview." Bess looks at me with that face that says: 'I don't believe you, but I'll make like I do because you're the boss' daughter and I need to keep my job'.

"Sure thing, Sum. I've brought you some snacks while you wait."

She places a tray of all my favourites treats on the table. My eyes light up. If there's one way to cheer me up, it's sweet treats. And Bess knows it. Dried fruit. Sour strips. Fruit slices. Popcorn. Jelly beans. Biltong. Potato chips. 

"You're the best!"

I grab the sour strips and demolish them as I stare at my laptop. Seeing Nate on my screen reminds me... "I have to call him." Bess nods. 

"Let me leave to it." She walks back into the house, making sure to close the sliding door behind her.

I dial Nate and put it on speaker. It rings until it goes to voicemail. I dial him again. But then this time goes straight to voicemail. Did he just turn off his phone? The nerve. 

"Alright, Nate. If that's how you want to play... game on."

So much for my sugar high induced good mood.

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Ding. Summer looks at her phone. A text from Nate flashes across her screen.

Nate: Summer, I'm sorry.

There is no way he thinks returning my calls at 6pm is appropriate.

You've gotta be kidding me.

With dinner all done, Bess comes onto the patio with some water and ice tea. I look at them, not feeling very much like water or ice tea and in the mood for something stronger.

"Please could I have some coffee, Bess?" I look pleadingly at Bess, but she just nods understandably and smiles back at me. How can she not pity me? She just witnessed me waiting for Nate all day only for him to stand me up. But you know what? I don't care. I will have that pity coffee, thank you very much.

Ding. A text comes through. Ding. Then another. Ding. And another. Ding. Ding. Ding.

Nate: I was with Zach and Preston last night.

Nate: I drank too much and I passed out.

Nate: That's no excuse, I know.

Nate: I'm really sorry.

Nate: Can I come over?

Nate: Summer, come on. Say something.

Before I can even process the flurry of texts coming through, my phone rings. I pick it up from the table.

Well, would you look at that. His phone does work.

My heart almost leaps out of my chest. He still gives me butterflies, despite everything. Despite how he insists on behaving like a total ass.

I want to answer, but I have to fight the urge with everything in me. There is no way Nate gets to pull this stunt on me. It rings one last time before I let it go to voicemail. 

If he has anything to say, he's going to say to my face.

"Aren't you going to get that, honey?" Mother walks out onto the patio, gives me a kiss on the cheek before she goes to sit down across from me. 

"Missed you at dinner." I put my phone back on the table and take a sip of my coffee. I don't want to address the issue of the phone calls I'm ignoring. My mother knows when I don't answer her questions, it's usually something I'd rather not talk about. 

"I know. I'm sorry, honey. I had to get that painting finished. But I'm all yours now." She pours a glass of water. "Who was that?"

I take another sip of my now almost empty mug of coffee. "No one important."

My mother nods. "So? What happening with you and Nate, sweetheart? Bess told me he was coming over."

Dammit, Bess. 

"It was just for an interview for the paper. Nothing major." I avoid eye contact. I can't let her get that far. She'll read me like an open book. She'll know I'm upset, and we cannot have that. I don't like Margaret Lennox sees me getting upset because she gets super emotional and sometimes weepy. Very mama bear. I do love my mother to death, but right now I just want to stay mad at Nate in peace without any disturbance on my conscience. 

"Besides, he didn't show up." I manage to look up, but ever-so-slightly. I meet her eyes. And...

There it is. 

"I'm sorry, hun." She looks at my phone on the table. Very quickly she connects the dots. "I'm sure he has a perfectly good explanation."

"Yeah. I bet he does." I won't bother telling my mother he overslept and missed our appointment because he was having a blast with his friends the night before. That will make me seem petty. And I'd like to be petty without being made to feel guilty about it. 

I take another sip of my coffee, preferring to let us both sit in this awkward silence. I'd rather that than talk about Nate. 

"Here's your dinner, ma'am." Bess saves us, doing quick work of cutting that tension. 

"Thank you, Bess. You're an angel." At least dinner will keep her a bit occupied for the next few minutes.

Can't believe Nate has me not wanting to talk to my mom. Who am I right now?

If I have to think about him, fine. My thoughts are wayward — it is what it is. But I refuse to make him a topic of conversation. Not here. And definitely not right now.