manâs comment to be inappropriate and disrespectful to my father. In fact, Iâm sure she loves it. Sheâd love it even if she wasnât out of her mind right now.
The air becomes filled with the sounds of clinking glass, then long, thoughtful gulps. Margaret drains her glass before lowering it, which I find to be needlessly dramatic considering the toast. The fragrance of the platters upon platters of food before me calm my nerves. The featured dishes are clearly from Penelopeâs recipe book: lamb chops that have been seared and dusted with edible gold flakes, chickpeas and chorizo, whole roasted chickens and sea bass and blackened mackerel.
People begin serving themselves immediately, and the chatter goes on as though it never stopped. I watch as Margaret loads her plate up without turning to look at me once.
âWe need to talk about this,â I say to her under my breath, once Iâm sure nobody is listening.
âNo, we donât,â her reply comes, quick and sharp. âItâs clear to me that you arenât capable of understanding whatâs going on. Iâm keeping this for myself.â
Iâm about to retort when a man named Kent Dickens, whom Iâve known just as long as Iâve known the Shaws, speaks up over the buzz of the crowd to address my father.
âFelix,â he says through a horridly visible mouthful of sea bass. âWhat are your plans for the estate now that Penelope is gone?â
My stomach clenches in the same way that it did when Gregory gave his toast. Why must these people linger on things that are none of their business?
âMy plans for the estate?â my father replies to Kent, his voice already on edge. âI plan to continue running it, of course. Penelope may have lived here and helped raise the girls, but Iâve been the one managing the immense responsibilities of this place since Eva passed away.â
The murmur of chatter in the crowd dies down.
âI had no idea overseeing a staff was so difficult,â Kent says in a lighthearted tone. âStill, I meant no offense by the question, Felix.â
Sure he didnât. Kentâs wife, Mary-Anne, a dark-haired lady with impressively smooth skin for her age, looks deeply embarrassed as she scoops more chorizo onto her plate.
âOf course not,â Gregory pipes in. âIâm sure Kent just meant that it must feel strange being the king of a place where you have no authentic blood rootsââ
âThe Acosta name will carry on,â my father interrupts. âAs Iâm sure you remember, I had my name changed when Eva and I married, and my daughter, Lucy, was born into it, as well. Iâve always been fully aware of the connection this place has to the club. I will continue to provide the space for get-togethers and galas, I will continue to fund whatever is needed for our projects of interest...â
âWell now, Felix,â Gregory cuts in. âThereâs no need to get defensive, my boy. I have never been less than impressed with your contributions to our club and the community of Scarborough Falls.â
My father doesnât respond, instead draining the sangria from his glass before pouring more.
âLetâs move on,â I say loudly, much to the shock of Kent and Gregory. If they wonât respect my father for his lack of âauthenticâ Acosta blood, I will drown them out using mine. âWhat a thing to bring up in front of everybody at the first gathering without my aunt. And from someone who just made a toast in her honor, no less.â
Embarrassed silence from Gregory and Kent; supportive nods from other members. My father nods at me ever so slightly, but I donât return the gesture. I didnât do it for him, I did it for Penelope. And myself, to be honest, because if I had to listen to one more second of it all, I would have screamed.
âGood job, sweetie,â Nancy slurs to me from