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“He got Eleanor pregnant when he was really young though, didn’t he?” Marama says.
Kingi nods again. “He was only eighteen I think. But Peter and Joyce—his foster parents—paid for everything, and Peter pushed Spencer to go to university even though he was a young dad. Spencer flourished there. He discovered he had a talent for investment, a kind of sixth sense for what would be profitable. He created an online financial advisory service in his second year of university, and he invested all the money he made through it. Then when he graduated, he created Cavendish Investments, Cavendish Property Developments, and several other companies. Started on his own, gradually grew his staff. Made an absolute fortune over the years. He’s totally a self-made man.”
“So why doesn’t Orson work for him?” I ask, puzzled.
He tips his head from side to side. “He was always keen that Orson made his own way in the world. He wanted his children to be independent. I think he’d have found Orson a role if he’d wanted, but right from when we were young at school, Orson and I would talk about setting up our own company. I think he wanted to impress his father and prove that he could do well on his own.”
“Fascinating,” Marama says. “Do you think Spencer is proud of him?”
“Of course,” Kingi replies. “But he’s not the type of guy who’s open with his affection or praise. Like I said, he’s a cold fish.”
Marama shrugs. “I don’t believe it’s because he doesn’t have feelings. I think he’s just learned over the years to keep them under control. And I admire that in a way. A man in his position.”
“Orson and I run companies and we’re not like robots.”
“Spencer isn’t a robot.”
“He’s totally a cyborg. The dude never smiles.”
“Of course he does!”
“Well, he’ll smile at you,” Kingi says with a snort.
She blinks. “What do you mean?”
He just flicks his eyebrows up. Marama instantly turns scarlet.
I smile. “He is very handsome, and—” I stop as I see Orson and Spencer come out of the building, and all words flee my mind.
To my relief, neither of them looks angry. As they approach, someone stops Spencer to talk, so Orson joins us and sits beside me.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Fine.” He squeezes my hand. “It’s all good, don’t worry.” Despite his assurance, though, he’s frowning. “I’ll get us all another round of drinks,” he says, and gets to his feet again. “Kingi, give us a hand?”
“Sure.” Kingi rises and goes with him. Before they reach the bar, though, they stop and have a conversation. I wonder what that’s about?
“Hey.” It’s Helen, Orson’s sister. She joins us at the table, lowering down heavily with her pregnant belly. “Everything all right? I saw Dad and Orson walk off.”
“Yes, fine,” Marama says, presumably deciding to leave it to Orson to tell her what’s going on. “Having a good time?”
“The food is fantastic,” Helen says. “I just adore the chef here.”
“Those oysters are to die for.”
“I know, with the mignonette sauce.”
I’m not sure what that is, so I don’t say anything. I like these women, but I am conscious that they come from a very different world from me.
“Hello.” Spencer stops by the table. He slides his hands into the pockets of his chinos and hesitates. “Scarlett… I want to apologize. I was very rude earlier, and it was unforgivable, I’m so sorry.”
His apology surprises me and takes the wind out of my sails. Conscious of Marama and Helen watching, I say, “Oh… um… it’s okay.”
“I carry thirty years of resentment and hurt with me,” he says, “and it’s time I let it go. It’s clear that Orson is very fond of you, and you’re special to him. I’ve started off on the wrong foot with you, and I’m sorry about that.”
It’s true that Spencer was rude to me. And it’s also true that my father was hardly the sort to forgive and forget. But the Cavendishes aside, he also taught me and Ana that human beings make mistakes.We all say and do things we regret. And it’s the ability to forgive that makes a person worth knowing.
“It’s okay,” I say softly. “I understand.”