Page 28 of Behind These Four Walls
“I’ve already told you—I am too busy.” His response was curt, as if they’d been down this road before. “Invasivedoesn’t begin to cover what you’re describing. My life isn’t fodder for some glossy puff piece for an award I never asked for.”
“People don’t usually ask for awards, Dad,” Holland said cheekily. “They just earn them.”
Victor shot her a look that said she’d betrayed him, but his annoyance with her wasn’t genuine. “You know what I mean.”
“It’s not just about you. It’s about the family,” Brooke snapped, standing next to Jackson as if they were about to have a face-off in the breakfast veranda. “This isn’t just your legacy, you know. It’s all of ours. Our philanthropic branch. Our outreach programs. The companies and subsidiaries. The millions in endowments and charitable offerings we’ve given. Your kids.” She motioned in their general direction. “If you won’t do it for yourself.” Her voice dipped into sweet and pleasing as she sidled up to her husband and touched the lapel of his suit with her glossy red polished fingernail, smoothing it intimately as if they were the only two people in the room.
The room quieted. Bennett looked down at his pristine shoes and grinned, knowing his mother well, and Jackson regarded the scene from his perch against a far wall with cool blue eyes. He set his cup of coffee aside and pulled out a green pack of gum, then slipped a piece out and popped the stick in his mouth.
Victor watched her as if she were a specimen and he was wondering what she would do next to get what she wanted. His lips held a hint of a smile Isla couldn’t discern. Nat could learn something here, because these people were the epitome of performance at its finest.
“For you?” Victor asked, his head bowed low toward her to make up for the difference of his six feet in height to her five-four. Victor sighed. “My dear,” he began. Then he stepped back so that her hand hung in the air and the trance was broken. “Your priorities are showing again. This isn’t about the family, or me. It’s about you wanting the spotlight again. Have at it. But leave me out of it.”
Brooke retracted her hand, but before she could retort, before Isla could even think about what she was saying or doing, Isla was out of her seat and saying, “I think Mrs. Corrigan is right about you doing this spread.”
Eyes were on Isla and her plastered-on smile. She hoped none of them could hear the thundering of the rapid heartbeats that pounded in her ears. When opportunity arose, you had to jump on it. She balled her hands into fists at her sides so no one would see her fingers trembling. The air was charged with tension.
Brooke faced her, astounded at Isla’s audacity. The whole room was, but where everyone else was rendered speechless, Brooke Corrigan had plenty to say.
“This is none of your concern, young lady. I think by now you’ve been well thanked for helping Holland out, but that doesn’t mean you can insert yourself into business that’s not yours.” Brooke said it calmly, with an undercurrent of malice. “I think it’s time for you to head back to your world now.” She raised an eyebrow high. She looked like a goddess. The evil kind that ripped and shredded people to pieces.
Your world.
Because Isla’s world was less than Brooke’s. Brooke believed everyone who wasn’t as rich and polished as she was, who didn’t live in an oversize mansion near the top of a mountain where they could rule like gods over this small town, who didn’t lunch at the country club, play pickleball, and screw their tennis trainers, was beneath her. Isla’s world indeed.
“You’re absolutely right,” Isla said brightly, effervescent charm spewing forth to mask her true emotions, contempt and anger atBrooke’s line of delineation between the worlds of the haves and have-nots. Isla’s nails dug so deeply into her palms they’d leave crescent shapes for the rest of the day to serve as a reminder. “I have probably overstayed my welcome.”
“No, Isla, that’s not it,” Holland tried to intercede. She addressed her mother. “Mother, I made Isla stay for breakfast. She was trying to leave because she just got word she was let go from her job.”
Isla waved her away. This fight was not Holland’s to make. She’d used Holland enough, and it was time to sink or swim on her own.
“It’s okay, Holland. Your mother’s right. You have been gracious enough to have me here, Mrs. Corrigan. Really. Truly. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.” If Brooke took her sentiment as disingenuous, that was exactly how Isla meant all of them to take it.
Isla ignored Bennett’s snicker and Jackson’s smirk as the room waited for Brooke to take Isla’s head off, or for Dixon to whisper to Victor that they really needed to get on the road.
She sensed Holland’s anxiety growing—and, on Isla’s right, Myles’s feigned indifference giving way to tension emanating from him. He was just as interested in the end result of her play as everyone else in the room.
Isla turned her attention to Victor, because he was who mattered, not the shrew about to erupt next to him. “It’ll be a win-win for you, Mr. Corrigan, if you get the right person to talk to. That’s all I was trying to say. I’m sorry for overstepping.”
Brooke said, “And yet you continue to do it.”
Victor was interested. “How so?”
“You are all Corrigans and Corrigan adjacent.” She gestured at Jackson and Dixon. “But I’m from the rest of the world, and I can tell you without a doubt that the world would love to know about the man behind all of this. You can control what they know about you in a way that you’ll be comfortable with, and I’m sure this transparency will go over well with your board members and possible business ventures. When I was on the UCLA newspaper staff, telling a story the right waywas imperative. And trust, you know? There’s got to be trust between the subject and the interviewer. I’m saying Mrs. Corrigan has a point, and not many people know about the man behind the empire. People want to know the secret of how you became so successful. For what it’s worth.” She took a breath because it was now or never, and if he said no, she’d have to figure out the truth from the outside in. “I’m not a big-time reporter for a huge magazine. I’ve only ever written for my school newspaper and am trying to build up my writing credits enough so that reputable organizations will give me a chance. I could write about you. If you’d let me.”
Brooke scoffed. “Oh please.” She looked away, shaking her head, moving to stand beside Jackson, who laid a placating hand on her arm.
Victor ignored his wife, his consideration of Isla unwavering. “You?”
She shrugged. “Like Holland said, I’m out of a job, so I’m available, don’t have an agenda to make you look bad, and will have a solid writing sample to use during interviews.”
He continued to watch her, his expression unreadable, demeanor stern and intimidating. She saw him in Myles and knew where Myles had learned it from. The seconds stretched, and she hoped she hadn’t overplayed her hand by jumping in. Even though she continued to stand her ground, Isla’s mind whirred, trying to recall plan B, or C, or even D if this failed. She second-guessed herself. Waited for him to say something.
The corner of his mouth twitched in spite of himself, and he let out a wry laugh of disbelief. He looked at Dixon as if asking for input, but Dixon had none to give, only pointing at his watch.
“We need to go. We have to helicopter to DC and are already behind schedule.”
Victor looked around the room, finally taking in who else was there. “Holl, you have practice today?”