Free That Part Was True by Deborah Mckinlay Page B

this wedding. I realize I have let you down in many ways, Izzy, but I assure you I will do my best to make sure you have the wedding of your dreams.” He raised an elegant hand and momentarily an ornately uniformed waiter brought their menus.
    Izzy relaxed slightly when she opened hers. Food was familiar territory.
    The waiter, who had greeted her father by name, said, “We have carpaccio today, madam. And also lobster bisque. Or if something lighter appeals, perhaps a little consommé.”
    A lively discussion ensued before she settled on quail eggs and veal.
    â€œVery good, madam,” the waiter said, as if it had been a delight to serve her. And then he turned to her father to take his order for broad bean salad and Dover sole before the sommelier was summoned. By the time the wine was settled, it was time to go to their table.
    When they were seated in the opulent dining room, Simon looked at his daughter fondly and said, “I see your mother has raised you with her love of food. Do you cook as well as she does?”
    â€œI don’t cook,” she said. And then, suddenly fed up with all this parent business, with both of them, she said, “And it was Gin-gin who raised me. My mother always kept herself out of the picture. Not so far out of the picture as you, granted, but out of it nonetheless.”
    Simon Petworth looked at this striking girl who was his blood and his features stilled. “Your mother is a fine woman, Izzy. There is not an atom in her that isn’t decent, and unless she has changed very much, I doubt that she has ever done anything deliberately unkind to you or anyone else.”
    Izzy was taken aback. He had spoken to her sternly. He had sounded like…a father.
    â€œWell, no,” she said, pausing as her quail eggs were laid in front of her with some ceremony. After the white wine was poured, she said, “No, not unkind, I just, well, she didn’t seem terribly interested in me. Not like Gin-gin was.”
    â€œGin-gin,” Simon answered with obvious control, “was your grandmother, and I understand that you had a great deal of affection for her.”
    Izzy was about to respond to this, but his expression warned her off.
    â€œBut you were alone in that. No one else could abide the woman. If she was good to you, I am glad—it may absolve her somewhat in death—but she was never good to your mother. In fact, it is to my great shame that I allowed her to treat your mother the way she did and that I abandoned your mother to that. I feel as badly about that now as I do about abandoning you. Virginia Lowell was a calculating, ruthless bully, and she treated her daughter like a slave. I suspect Eve simply let her mother take over your upbringing because she was too terrified to do anything else.”
    He ended his speech then, and began to eat methodically. The charged air hung between them.
    It was Izzy who spoke first.
    â€œI would like to have my reception at Hadley Hall,” she said.
    â€œVery good,” Simon said. “Yes, that will be fine. Simply make any arrangements you choose and have the paperwork sent to me. Whatever you want will be fine.”
    Izzy was feeling disturbed. She was not used to feeling disturbed and she didn’t like it. Perhaps her face signaled her bewilderment.
    â€œI’m sorry, Izzy,” her father said. “I do understand you cared for your grandmother.”
    â€œLoved my grandmother,” Izzy corrected.
    â€œYes, loved your grandmother. But you are a young woman now, perhaps you’ll have children of your own before too long. Try to be compassionate to your mother. We all owe her that.”
    Izzy lowered her fork slowly and stared at the man who had made this statement.
    â€œIf you cared for her so much, why did you abandon her for that…” She stopped herself from using her grandmother’s description.
    Simon lowered his silverware, too, and returned his