“Not at all. I don’t think any child
appreciates the circumstances of their birth, whether it’s difficult or not,
privileged or not, and every child has the right to feel loved.”
“Yes, well, I have no complaints. My mother
didn’t exactly have a great time of things either. She’d been groomed her whole
life to be a man’s wife, and she was that first. My father’s disappointment at
not having a son, but a daughter who didn’t even measure up, made their
relationship pretty rocky.”
They stopped when they reached the entrance
to Central Park. The weather was still cold enough to dissuade all but the most
stalwart to stay still for very long, and Derian pointed to an unoccupied
bench. “Are you too cold to sit? I promise to stop moaning about my horrible
past. I’ve survived quite well and Martin must be much happier now, with a son and
a young wife to give him what he always wanted.”
Emily caught back a protest. Derian’s
experiences seemed terribly unfair to her, but she appreciated Derian wanting
to make light of them. “I have to confess, I’m not quite ready to go back to
that room. But I just want to say I think your father is the one who’s lost the
most by not seeing what an accomplished, successful woman you’ve become.”
Derian stared. “Thank you. Not many people
would agree with you.”
“What other people think doesn’t matter,
though, does it?” Emily said as they sat side by side, finishing their cashews.
“What about you?”
Derian raised a brow. “What do you mean?”
“Are you satisfied?”
“With what I’ve made of my life? Sure,”
Derian said instantly, wondering as she did about the truth of her words. “I’m
successful as far as making the right choices and backing the right teams, and
I’m damn good at the tables.”
Emily laughed. “So I understand.”
“As I said, I have no complaints.”
Something about their shared waiting, and
their shared worry, made for disclosures Emily never would’ve made otherwise.
Knowing Derian loved Henrietta in the same way she did made her bold. “What
about the other things in life? Do you want a family?”
“God, no. What would I do with a wife and
children? What would I do for
them,” she said, voicing thoughts she rarely entertained. “I’d probably be no
better at child rearing than my parents, and I have no desire to saddle some
poor kid with the Winfield legacy.”
“What makes you think that you would parent
the way your parents did? I think you’re incredibly perceptive and you
obviously love Henrietta, and what is more important to raising children than
understanding and caring?”