Picking up the delicate glass, she ran her fingertips over the gentle curves lovingly. The woman was a genius, she thought in admiration. Owning something by Mary Catherine was a verybig deal. And he did say the proceeds, or most of it, were going to charity, something she was big on. She would keep it for the time being, someplace safe where Galahad wouldn't bounce around and smash it, and then she would give it back to him.
Placing it back in the tissue wrappings, she hefted it to take it upstairs.
*****
He did not go back to his place. He was too churned up to be alone and had briefly contemplated calling someone. He had a list of women who would love nothing better than a suggestion from him that he wanted to come over. But the very thought of being with someone else turned his stomach.
So, he called his sister and was surprised to find that she was home and that she wanted to talk.
They weren't very close. Years of being in the same space had taken care of any sort of familial bonding. They had mostly been raised by household staff, a plethora of nannies that never stayed more than a few months. (Now looking back, Dean realized that his father had something to do with that. He had affairs with them and paid them off when he was finished with them.) It made him sick to his stomach now to also realize that they had shared the same women, more than once.
No wonder Catherine didn't want to be tainted by him.
"You've been drinking." He made the observation as soon as Irene opened the door to admit him.
"If you're here to be the sober police, you can damn well take yourself off and go to hell." Turning around, she marched along the narrow hallway and into the elegantly appointed yellow and green sitting room.
Dean saw the evidence of her downward spiral on the cherry wood table. The crystal ashtray was overflowing with cigar butts, and a decanter was already half empty with what looked like scotch.
"Help yourself." Waving a desultory hand, she plopped herself down on the soft leather sofa and stretched her legs out. Her sable brown hair was not in its usual immaculate coil at the nape of her neck, and her makeup was streaked as if she had been crying.
"No, thanks." Pushing away her lime green jacket, he sat across from her, eyes following her jerky movements as she pulled on the cigarette. "What's going on?"
"Charles is cheating on me," she declared bluntly.
"I thought you had already left him."
She dragged on the cigarette and blew smoke towards the ceiling. The window was open, letting in the cool breeze and thankfully filtering away the smoke. "Dad wanted us to try again." She mimicked their father's voice perfectly. "'Now, darling. This is your third marriage and Charles is a good man. He's on the board and is from a very good family. Cheating is a part of life and it's time you grow up.'" She sniffed. "So, I decided to give the son of a bitch another go, only to find out he's cheating with his secretary. And he wants me to sanction the affair, wants me to be okay with it."
Tears blurred her gray eyes. "Just like our parents. I thought I could be sophisticated about it like Mother, but I can't." She swallowed the lump that had lodged itself inside her throat. "I cannot be that kind of wife."
"And you shouldn't have to be." Surging to his feet, he paced over to the window, expression ominous. He had no love for the people who had brought him into the world. He had told himself growing up that it did not bother him, but now it did. Now he realized that he had been lying to himself.
"Divorce the bastard." He turned back to his sister and deliberately pushed away his own misery. "He signed a prenup, so he gets nothing. You're worth more than some man using you."
She squinted at him, her face a pathetic mass of indecision and utter sadness. "Where's this coming from?" she wondered. "You usually don't concern yourself about my miserable life."
He winced at that and realized it was the truth. He had spent his life doing whatever the hell he pleased without thought to anyone else.
"I'm sorry for that." He came and sat back down. "You're obviously unhappy." He paused slightly and considered the ridiculous question he was about to ask her.
"Are you in love with him?"
Her eyes widened as she gaped at him.
"Darling, are you high? In this family we marry for convenience, or if the person holds an exalted position."
"Then why the hell should you be concerned that he's cheating on you?"
"Because I do." She firmed her trembling lips. "Because it's humiliating to realize the man you're with, your bloody husband is no longer interested in you. I don't look like you," she pointedout bitterly. "I don't look like our mother. Compared to the both of you, I'm plain."
"Do you know how it feels to realize that you're only married for your name? It does something to you here." She thumped a fist against her thin chest. "You will never know what it feels to be used up and discarded. One, you're a man, two you have looks and three your name is Collier."
"I have no talent. The only thing I'm good for is to sit on some charitable board and say a few things about this or that. Nothing more. I'm not allowed to hold an important position in the company. I'm useless."
"Then change it, dammit."
"Pardon?" She blinked at him owlishly.