Page 223 of The First Taste

I force myself to shake my head. “Nope. Not mad.”

The lie feels oily leaving my lips but Minnie brightens.

“Oh, that’s a relief. I thought you would be angry with me.”

I bow my head, my face contorting. “Nope.”

Minnie pats my cheek and gives me a quick hug. Then she scoops up a stack of books, hustling into the hallway, and disappears.

I look at the mess she’s left by the cash register, little scraps of paper, the glass markers strewn about, a tattered book of poems left open with a page ripped out and left disconnected.

Unable to control myself, I reach down and sweep everything off the desk, sending it all flying in every direction. It is a satisfying feeling for a whole of three seconds… until I see the mess has now expanded, taken over the floor where it has landed.

With a heavy sigh, I step around the desk and begin picking up the rubble.

Five

Dare

Another day, another horribly lavish party at the Morgan estate. I stand in the mansion's huge living room, leaning against the wall, and watch as one hundred people that I have never seen before, dressed in their absolute best suits and gowns, float around me. The guests are all smiling, pleased that they were able to wrangle an invitation to Remy Morgan's house. It’s all very gauche, in my opinion.

I throw back the last ounce of scotch that's in my tumbler and push myself off the wall. Beside me, my Uncle Felix contemplates the crowd as well.

"Freaking yuppies," he mumbles. "Every single person that's in this room relies on our family for their fortunes. It's sick that Remy calls, and they all come running to celebrate whatever he feels like celebrating. I doubt that most of these idiots even know what Twelfth Night is."

Inclining my head, I flash the whole room a frown. "It's a joke. A sycophantic joke. It's disgusting, but what else are toadies for if not to kiss the King's ring?"

His lips twist sourly. "What a bunch of assholes. Do you know what I plan on doing with my cut of the inheritance?"

He unbuttons the top button of his tuxedo shirt, undoing his bow tie. We've been here for two hours now, and a glance out the window tells me that it's almost dark outside. It's nearly time for my uncle to get properly soused.

I spot a waiter and motion him over, ordering another scotch. My uncle does not seem to notice whether or not I am actually paying any attention. He carries on his monologue, his tone and the volume of his voice rising steadily into a rant.

"I'm going to take my money, catch a flight to Eastern Europe, and never look back. I can set myself up there for life with enough money to live like a king. I'll have women, I'll have land, and I will never think about the family business again. I promise you that."

My lips twitch. Felix certainly looks as though he means every word of it. But whether it will come to fruition is dubious. Felix doesn't seem to be able to stay away, not when it comes to the Morgan family. At least, that's what I have seen him do time and time again. He grows angry and resentful, he makes a huge scene before leaving the family forever, and then a few months later he comes back with his tail between his legs.

But I don't say any of this to my uncle. It's not worth starting a fight over something so meaningless right now. Instead, I just clap him on the shoulder.

"When we take over the family business, everything will be different."

He shrugs and looks away. "Maybe. It does seem that no matter what I do, I always get pulled back into the dealings of this family."

I accept a fresh tumbler of scotch and raise my glass to my uncle. "Here's to not being caught in the cycle again. If this goes right and I take the business from my brother, we will both go out of our way to establish new patterns and set new trends."

"Yeah, we will!" He pulls his bow tie off and crumples it in one hand. "I am going to head into town. I am over whatever’s happening here."

I don't say anything as my uncle leaves me. He is soon lost in the sea of black suits and glittering multicolored dresses. I take a last sip of the scotch and then leave the tumbler behind on a side table and start navigating my way around the party. I step out of the living room and dart into the cool darkness of the servant’s corridor.

Closing the door, I head down the dimly lit passage. This is the only place in the entire house where cobwebs build up. I flick my hand out as I pass one. These servants’ passages run all around the house, running between many of the rooms and culminating at the kitchen. As kids, Burn and I would always run through them, giggling and looking through the various peepholes into the rooms on the main floor. Now, I rarely use them, as I am rarely back here on the estate. It is even rarer that I should happen to be alone on one of my visits.

I walk past the billiard room and the solarium, then pass Remy's office. I make a sharp right turn at the large library and come to a set of steel doors. Pushing my way through them, I let myself into the kitchen, where a fragrant tomato sauce bubbles away on the stove just to my right.

In front of me, there is a vast kitchen island and a large open pantry on the wall just behind it. To my left, there is an old woman who has her head buried in the oversized double refrigerator. As I make my way around the large kitchen island toward the stove, she pulls her head out of the refrigerator.

When she sees me, her entire face lights up, and she pushes back a few strands of her gray hair that have escaped from her bun. She's dressed in all white. Her white apron around her thick waist is covered in red stains, presumably from whatever vegetables she had to chop up and put in the tomato sauce.

"It smells good, Magda."