How dare they? How dare they assume the worst? But underneath, the anger was hurt so deep I couldn’t breathe. I sat in that driveway for ten minutes trying to figure out my next move.
Hotels in town were limited. A motel by the highway and a sketchy place downtown. I had savings from my summer internships, but not much. Most of it went to bar exam prep materials.
I called Michael from the parking lot of a McDonald’s.
“How’d it go?” he asked, hope in his voice.
“About as well as the Titanic,” I laughed bitterly. “They kicked me out.”
“What?” The shock in his voice was genuine. “Laura, I’m so sorry. Where are you now?”
“McDonald’s parking lot. Trying to figure out if the motel by the highway still has hourly rates or if they’ve gone upscale to daily.”
“Absolutely not. Dad’s house has twelve bedrooms. You’re staying there tonight.”
“Michael, I can’t just show up at your father’s.”
“You’re carrying his grandchild. You’re family. More family than those people who just threw you out.”
“But what will he think? Me showing up like some homeless—”
“He’ll think your parents are idiots, which they are. I’m calling him now.”
“Michael, wait.”
But he’d already hung up.
Five minutes later, my phone rang. Robert Hastings himself.
“Laura, Michael told me what happened. I’m sending my driver to get you. Where are you?”
“Mr. Hastings, I couldn’t—”
“Where are you?” he repeated, his tone brooking no argument.
Twenty minutes later, a black town car pulled into the McDonald’s parking lot. The driver, an older gentleman named James, took my suitcase without a word about the bizarre pickup location.
The ride to the Hastings estate was surreal. I’d driven past those gates countless times growing up, never imagining I’d enter them pregnant and homeless. The house looked like something from a magazine. Fountains. Marble columns. Windows that reflected the setting sun like gold.
My beat-up Honda would have looked ridiculous in that driveway. Thank God for James and the town car.
Robert met me at the door himself, all six-foot-three of him in a cashmere sweater, looking like the successful businessman he was. This was my father’s boss, the man whose approval determined careers at Hastings Industries. And here I was, showing up like a stray cat.
“Laura,” he said warmly, pulling me into a hug that surprised us both. “Come in, sweetheart. You look exhausted.”
Sweetheart.
My own father hadn’t called me that since I was five.
The foyer was bigger than my childhood home, with a chandelier that probably cost more than my law school debt. But Robert guided me past it all to a comfortable sitting room, more intimate and warm.
“First things first,” he said, settling me onto a sofa. “Have you eaten?”
“I’m fine.”
“That wasn’t really a question. Maria?”
A woman appeared as if by magic.
“Could you prepare something for Laura and ready the blue suite?”
“I’m so sorry to impose,” I started, but Robert waved me off.
“You’re not imposing. You’re family. Michael’s told us so much about you over the years. Well, after he finally admitted you two were together.”
I blinked.
“You knew?”
Robert smiled.
“Laura, I’ve known since your sophomore year. Did you really think my son could hide being in love for six years? He’s many things, but subtle isn’t one of them.”
“But you never said anything.”
“You both clearly had your reasons for privacy. I respected that. Though I did wonder why you never came to family events.”
“I was afraid,” I admitted. “My father. He would have either accused me of gold digging or tried to use the relationship for his own advancement. I couldn’t do that to Michael or to you.”
Robert’s expression darkened.
“Your father? Yes, I can see him doing that. Tell me exactly what happened tonight.”
So I did.
The whole story poured out. The secret relationship. Finding out about the pregnancy. Planning to tell them together. Their immediate rejection. By the end, I was ugly crying into tissues that probably cost more than my groceries.
“They didn’t even ask about the father,” I said between sobs. “Just assumed I was some kind of—I don’t even know what they thought.”
“They thought about themselves,” Robert said quietly. “About their image, their reputation, not about you or their grandchild.”
Maria returned with a tray of food that looked like a five-course meal. While I ate, the baby was apparently starving. Robert made phone calls in the next room. I caught fragments.
“Guest room prepared.”
“Shopping tomorrow.”
“Whatever she needs.”
When he returned, he sat across from me with an expression I couldn’t read.
“Michael tells me you have a job offer in Chicago.”
“Kirkland and Ellis. I start in September after the bar exam.”
“Excellent firm. You’ll do well there.”
He paused.
“I know Gerald Morrison has worked for my company for seventeen years. I want you to know that this situation, your relationship with Michael, your presence here, will have no bearing on his employment. His job is safe as long as he performs adequately.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Yes, I do. You’re worried about repercussions. I’m assuring you there won’t be any. From my end, at least.”
The meaning was clear. My father might create his own problems, but they wouldn’t come from Robert.
“Can I ask you something?” I said quietly. “Why are you being so kind to me?”
Robert looked surprised.
“You’re carrying my grandchild. You’re the woman my son loves. You’re a brilliant young attorney who earned everything through your own merit. Why wouldn’t I be kind?”
“My own parents—”
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