Chapter Two
Her drinks cabinet was almost perpetually full, so Melanie always had options. She wasn’t an alcoholic or anything—in fact, most of the bottles were still sealed and the rest were down by only a glass or two of the delicious liquid.
As a child, Melanie watched her mother fall into a bottle of wine when her father couldn’t make it home for dinner. When he could make it home, they shared a glass of champagne, as if it was a uniquely special occasion. Which, actually, it was; James Brunswick spent most nights at the office, elbow deep in investments and contracts. Sometimes, Melanie was allowed a couple of sips from her father’s glass, but only after he signed a deal worth over a certain amount. He would tell her that she had something to celebrate as well, since he could add something to her ever-growing college fund.
The thought made Melanie grin as she chose a bottle of white to go with the Italian takeout she had brought home. The pasta primavera from Juliet’s went perfectly with white wine. She poured herself half a glass and swirled it around for a moment before taking a long sip and breathing a deep sigh. She kicked off her heels, as she carried her food and drink to the table, setting up her place and sitting herself down next to a pile of mail.
The apartment around her was quiet as her fork scratched the surface of her plate. She moaned softly at the first taste of her food and reached for the envelope on the top of the pile, ripping it open at the side. Most of them were bills and letters from her investors; deals that needed to be signed and bank statements that filled her with a sense of accomplishment that only her first foray into high finance could.
The contract that her colleagues had signed earlier was still lying on the counter where she’d placed it as she stepped into the Williamsburg apartment. After Melanie had gone through all her mail and finished her meal, she stood and walked over to the counter, pouring herself a second glass of wine as she reached out to read the signatures. In total, there were over a dozen; people who believed in her and what she was trying to accomplish.
Melanie had always been skilled at making work acquaintances and social connections. Many of her classmates at Yale were still in touch with her and reached out, hoping to work with her on their own upcoming projects. Her father had left her with enough money that she could make it possible. Her investors had enough faith in her that any business venture she took on was almost guaranteed to be a success. She was intelligent and motivated and it showed in her work.
She was also charming, funny, and beautiful. Nobody ever denied that about her. Hell, Melanie couldn’t deny that about herself, but she also hadn’t exactly had a date in nearly a year. Not that she had made much of an effort to find a romantic partner. Her focus had been solely on finding investors and making connections to get her footing in this world that her father had once inhabited.
He’d always told her that the most important relationships she could possibly have would lead her to more wealth and would carve out her place in the world. He’d always wanted her to follow in his footsteps and she imagined that he would be quite proud if he could see her now.
Well, she hoped so, anyway. Her father wasn’t very good at showing his pride in his children. His smile had scared her as a small girl because it had always seemed too forced. It wasn’t until she saw him at work, and saw the easy grin that he gave his colleagues, that she realized he was making an effort to seem softer around her and her mother. As much as she appreciated that, she preferred it when he was just himself.
He’d voiced his pride a few times in Melanie’s life, and each time had filled her with joy. Each time that she graduated to the next grade or got high grades in school or even the time she’d won class president…he’d been incredibly proud of her. He couldn’t show her in hugs and smiles, like most fathers, but she would find an increase in her allowance the following week or some new electronic that she’d been saving up for set upon her bed. There was never a note, but she knew whom it was from.
That was their relationship.
That was her relationship with most people, if she was honest.
Once she was finished going through her snail mail and had sealed every one of her contracts in a new envelope to be sent out via courier in the morning to her colleagues, Melanie took the rest her glass of wine down the hall to her office. She sat down at her desk and opened up her laptop, propping her feet up on a footstool underneath. She took a deep breath as she opened her emails, and found several from old classmates and work companions with whom she had interned. Most were asking for the names and numbers of investors that she had solicited; hoping to have a little cash sent their way for their own companies and business ventures.
Only a handful of them greeted her like a friend. The others were all, more or less, a copy of the practice letter they’d been instructed to write in Finance 101. Melanie didn’t mind so much, though. After all, it wasn’t like they were actual friends. They were business associates and, she reasoned, if she helped them now, that should be enough incentive for them to help her out in the future, if it came to it.
You can never have too many connections in the finance world, Mel. Somebody who owes you a favor is twice as important as an adversary is, any day.
You mean, like a friend?
…something of the sort.
Her father didn’t have a lot of friends, but he did have a lot of favors owed to him. He used to suggest places for her to work during her grade school years, citing somebody who ‘owed him’ or somebody who would ‘kill for a favor owed by James Brunswick’. It wasn’t until Melanie was much older that she realized her father never mentioned having any ‘buddies’, like the women that her mother would have brunch with while she was at school or being taken care of by her team of nannies and maids.
Instead, he just had acquaintances that would join them for dinner whenever he was trying to sign a deal with somebody. On those days, Melanie would not be allowed at the dinner table. Instead, she would eat in her room, at a table set up by her nanny, and they would have a ‘tea party’, even when Melanie was too big to still fit at the table any longer.
As she read the emails and signed electronic contracts with the tip of her finger, Melanie thought about her father’s relationships. Her mother had been his third wife and Melanie had been his youngest child. She didn’t see much of her siblings, and her father didn’t often talk about his older children, except to tell her how successful they were. As far as Melanie knew, they didn’t visit except on holidays and their father’s birthday.
She barely knew her own family and she wondered if her father regretted this part of his life. If she would regret this part of her life. If creating more personal connections would make her less like her father; if it would help her to be better than him—at least in the sense that she might be happier. Maybe she could even have a family that she saw more than a few times a month.
Maybe a husband.
Maybe children.
Hell, maybe even just a friend or two.
Melanie looked at the touchscreen of her laptop and sighed, removing her finger and saving the file, before closing it and closing the laptop altogether. It was too late for her to do anything about her incredibly stagnant social life just now, but soon enough she would have several firms that would set her place in the finance world and she could focus her attention elsewhere, for once.
Until then, it was just as good a time as any to get some well-deserved rest.
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