CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Her own mother hadn’t remembered her birthday, Paige thought dryly. She could get some serious mileage out of this around the dinner table.
“Would you like to come in and see the house?” she offered, hoping her mother would say no.
“I certainly wouldn’t want to end up on camera,” Leslie sniffed, her disdain evident.
“We’re not shooting for another thirty minutes,” Paige promised. She could do half an hour with her mother without wine. Couldn’t she?
“All right then.”
Crap.
Paige flipped the latch on the gate and swung it open for her mother. Leslie St. James didn’t open her own doors. “Just promise not to say anything condescending to anyone inside. They’ve been working their ass— They’ve been working nonstop. So put on your cocktail reception face,” Paige ordered.
Her mother rolled her eyes. “I’m not going to be rude to your… co-workers. This is your work, such as it is, and should be respected,” she said, eyeing the plywood floor of the foyer with a dubious expression.
Paige smiled through gritted teeth and led her mother through the main floor, praying that Gannon would stay wherever the hell he was and away from here. Her mother had indeed slapped on her professionally cool smile and politely greeted Gannon’s crew and Paige’s.
Leslie listened intently as Paige gave Tony feedback on the B roll he’d just shot and sent Bradley downstairs to help Chantay set up the lighting to shoot.
“I’d show you upstairs, but it’s even more of a mess than down here,” Paige told her mother, hoping that the brief tour would count as family quality time and they could be done.
Leslie arched an eyebrow as she glanced at the construction materials and inches of dirt and dust surrounding them. “I find that hard to imagine.”
“Paige!”
She heard the rumble of Gannon’s voice coming from the staircase. Oh, hell.
“She’s in here,” Flynn the traitor yelled, winking at Paige and her mother as he breezed by carrying sawhorses.
Gannon appeared and zeroed in on her. “Princess, I want to talk to you about some off-site shoots.”
“Princess?” Leslie’s voice took on the icy qualities of Antarctica.
Gannon stopped and looked back and forth between Paige and her mother, a slow grin sliding over his face.
“Mom, I’d like you to meet Gannon. Gannon, this is my mother, Leslie.”
“Dr. St. James,” Leslie corrected. “And we’ve met.”
“Who could forget a voice like yours, Dr. St. James?” Gannon asked.
“I’ll assume that is a rhetorical question.”
“Mom,” Paige said in a warning whisper.
“Assume whatever you like, Dr. St. James,” Gannon told her with a magnanimous wave of his arm. “Of course, you know what happens when you assume.”
“I see you’re consistently antagonistic,” Leslie announced. “Have you ever seen a therapist for that flaw?”
Paige blinked in horror. But Gannon simply laughed, which was always the wrong thing to do in front of Leslie St. James.
“Have you lost your damn mind?” Paige hissed at her mother, but Leslie wouldn’t be cowed.
“I assume since you’re working with my daughter, you must be sleeping with her again. What a shame. I’d thought she had better taste,” Leslie announced.
Paige let out a breath that sounded like air leaving an accordion. “Okay. Enough,” she finally snapped.
“Thank you for the tour, Paige. I can show myself out. I’m getting a headache being surrounded by all this… filth.”
“I’d be happy to show you out, Leslie,” Gannon offered, pushing yet another button. “It’s such a shame you can’t stay longer.”
“I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you. I’m sure you have a lot of work to do for the cameras.” She glanced around the empty dining room with its stripped floors and bare walls. “I suppose some find it gratifying to make their fortunes by debasing themselves on television.”
Gannon’s grin bared his teeth.
“Mother!” Paige snapped. “Enough. You’ve overstayed your welcome.”
“So nice to finally meet you in person, Gannon,” Leslie said, the picture of phony pleasantries.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” Gannon said, offering his hand.
Leslie shook it disdainfully and then wiped her palm on her skirt as Paige dragged her toward the front door.
“Just what have you done that earns you the right to be an asshole?” Paige demanded as she slammed the doors behind them.
“Your language leaves quite a bit to be desired.” Leslie’s voice carried enough frost to curdle the leaves of the pin oak above them.
“Your attitude leaves quite a bit to be desired. Gannon happens to be a loyal, hard-working, generous man. He beats anyone that you sneak home from your symposiums and your fundraisers for a tasteful fuck.”
It was a cheap shot, but hey, she was a St. James, and they never backed down from going for the jugular.
Her mother sputtered in indignation.
“Gannon could be building custom furniture worthy of your snobbish friends and making millions, but he puts his family first. He ‘debased’ himself on TV to save his grandfather’s construction company so his grandmother wouldn’t have to sell the only home she’s known and so he could keep the crew that he grew up with and their families on the payroll. What have you done? Decorated a house and written a few books? If I were you, I’d watch what insults I’m throwing in other people’s faces.”
Paige had worked up a full head of steam, and it wasn’t just going to fizzle out. No, she was going out with a bang.
“Are you insinuating that I’ve done things I should be ashamed of?” Leslie demanded.
“I’m insinuating that there is nothing in your life that comes before your career. Not your marriage, not your children, and certainly not your generosity of spirit!”
“I have never been so disappointed in you, Paige.”
“Yeah, well right back at you, Mother. I find your disregard for humanity to be damned disappointing.”
Leslie’s ice blue eyes chilled Paige to the bone. “Someday, daughter, you’ll understand how to prioritize your life. Men will come and go, but success that you’ve earned can never be taken from you. I just pray that whenever you do learn, it won’t be too late.”
“So noted, thanks,” Paige snapped.
Her mother, head high, strode down the stairs and across the uneven courtyard to the gate. She turned and raised a sculpted eyebrow. “I’ll still expect to see you at Thanksgiving.”
“I’ll bring the stuffing.”
Paige watched her mother hail a cab and then disappear around the corner.
“I’ll bring the stuffing?” Gannon sounded amused.
“Ugh.” Paige threw her head back to curse the gods. “How long have you been standing there?”
“Long enough to realize you should be way more screwed up than you are.”
Paige turned to face him. “It’s nothing personal, so please don’t take it that way. It’s never personal. My mother and I just baffle each other. She was out of line and then embarrassed about being out of line.”
“And then disappointed in you for calling her out.”
Paige winced. “My, what big ears you have.”
“Come here.” He reeled her in, giving her no option other than to slip her arms around his waist and rest her face on that broad expanse of chest. Gannon placed a kiss to the top of her head. “You’re an exceptional woman who is living a life you designed. If you feel one second of guilt for not doing what’s expected of you, you’re really going to piss me off.”
“Why are you so nice to me?” Paige murmured, inhaling his scent.
“I’m a glutton for punishment, and you just defended me to the dragon lady.”
Paige smiled against his chest. “She’d love that nickname.”
“I’ll be sure to use it at Thanksgiving.”