Uncovering Camila (Wildflowers Book 3) (21 page)

Chapter 52

“Be cool and try not to fidget,” Shoshana whispers to Camila as they exit the car.

Camila wouldn’t normally be intimidated by another person or her wealth, but after listening to her cousin describe Poppy Baron’s influence and massive wealth, she can’t help but be aware of her own limitations.

As she glances up at Poppy’s daughter’s house, which could contain her uncle and aunt’s own Hampton’s home, she’s acutely aware she’s entering another world, which, up until now, she’s only experienced peripherally.

“Ladies, how good of you to make it,” Poppy greets them on a veranda overlooking the pool. “It’s generous of you to share some of your vacation time to visit us.”

“We wouldn’t have it any other way.” Shoshana leans in for two kisses and then brings Camila forward to do the same.

“You’ll have to excuse Lily and her family’s absence. They were expected at her mother-in-law’s today.”

“Excuse away. It means a few hours of peace for me,” Dahlia says, jumping up to greet the young women. “Rodrigo took the girls over there. It makes his mom happy to have all of her grandchildren under one roof.”

“Hopefully we’ll get a chance to meet them the next time you’re in New York,” Shoshana suggests politely.

“More like when you visit Miami again. We’ll be moved down here permanently by the end of the year.”

“I hadn’t heard,” Shoshana says. Turning toward Marshall’s mother, she says, “Justice Douglas, so wonderful to see you again. You remember my cousin, Camila.”

Noticing her cousin talking to Dahlia, she tugs on her arm. “C.C.”

Camila pivots and takes Norah’s hand. Mustering all the humility and compassion she can, she says, “It’s very lovely to see you again.”

Marshall’s mother narrows her eyes at Camila. “I’m sure, dear.”

Camila doesn’t flinch. Instead she smiles and turns to Dahlia. “At least you’ll be out of New York by winter. The
cold
can be unbearable,” she comments.

Poppy notices her emphasis on the word “cold” and smiles at Camila’s self-confidence. “The more time I spend here in Miami, the more I realize how much more pleasant New Yorkers would be if they didn’t have winter. Then again, it makes New Yorkers what they are, tough and unapologetic.”

Norah and Camila know Poppy is directing this at them, but neither will acknowledge it. Both are used to having best friends or family who make oblique and occasional direct references to their tenacious personalities.

“And since the sun has graced us with its presence yet again, how about we dine
al fresco
?” Poppy directs them to the dining area adjacent to the outdoor kitchen, one of the few places where the housekeepers hadn’t set up for brunch. She eyes the empty table critically and clucks her tongue. “Excuse me momentarily while I . . . .”

“I’ll join you,” Norah jumps in, in an attempt to thwart a walk-out of the housekeeping staff, as well as to have a reason to get away from her son, with that smitten look on his face, and his
girlfriend
. She shakes her head at the thought of that word.

“No one says you have to like her, but you should try to be cordial,” Poppy advises Norah as they make their way along the pool to the main house.

“I’m not sure I can,” Norah sighs. “You probably didn’t notice the way Marshall was looking at her. I swear I thought my son had more sense than he’s showing today.”

“Men are encouraged to appreciate beauty, you know that. At least this one has brains.”

Norah stops walking, forcing Poppy to do the same. She needs the break. Walking is becoming more difficult, but she doesn’t want anyone to know. It’s hard enough having her daughters fuss over her. Of course a part of her loves the attention from her daughters, who never showed her any before, but her pride won’t allow her to admit it.

“What did Dahlia tell you? Marshall mentioned she’s a bartender. Twenty-five and a bartender. Can you believe it?” She throws up her hands. “My Yale educated son, who clerked for a federal court judge and two Supreme Court justices, is dating a bartender.”

Poppy purses her lips to keep from laughing. Norah’s lapse into dramatic wailing always amuses her. She touches her friend’s arm. “Relax before your hypertension gets worse. She isn’t just a bartender. Camila is a third-year law student at NYU.” Now she can smile as Norah’s eyes go wide. “It isn’t difficult to guess why he left out that detail.”

“Oh no!” Norah turns to look at the veranda and points. “Are you telling me that my son is fucking one of his students?”

Poppy folds her arms in front of her. “Says the woman who gave her Criminal Law professor a blow job at a party. You were only a 2L then.”

“It’s not the same. Everything I’ve worked for . . . , that he’s worked for . . . .” Norah stops. She can feel her temperature begin to climb. “If that ever comes out . . . . He could kiss any future political appointments good-bye.” She starts to walk back to the veranda to confront Marshall, but Poppy pulls her back. Norah glances at her friend’s hands. “Good to know you still have your strength.”

“You are seriously testing it. Listen to me, Norah. You see those two young women?” She waves a hand at Shoshana and Camila, who are sitting on chaises talking and laughing as Dahlia and Marshall recount stories from high school.

Her friend nods. “Of course, woman. I’m old, not blind.”

“Speak for yourself. Shoshana Cohen is Art and Natalie Cohen’s only daughter.”

“You know I don’t know all your Jewish friends.”

“It’s not about being Jewish in this case, it’s about being land owners. Art is the head of Cohen Real Estate.”

“So Camila has family with money. It doesn’t buy class, and it certainly doesn’t explain why she’s a bartender.” The way Norah says it shows her distaste for the job.

“Camila’s father is Bernie Cohen. William introduced us years ago. Bernie used to run in some of the same circles as William.” Poppy starts to walk slowly toward the house again. “Bernie was dating some actress at the time, although he was too bookish for that crowd. In any case, he fell off the map never to be seen or heard from. It was later that William told me there was a huge family scandal. Bernie upped and married an Afro-Cuban/Puerto Rican woman, who wasn’t Jewish. His father cut him off, and his brother inherited the company.”

Poppy stops recounting the story when they reach the house. Norah smiles when she hears footsteps scurrying away. “You really should try to be nicer to them. You don’t want to make life difficult for Lily and her family.”

“The only ones making life difficult are her staff. I’m doing Lily a favor. She’ll have a better-run household when I’m finished.”

“You realize how much you sound like your mother-in-law at the moment?”

“Of course, I do.” She leans toward her friend. “Sometimes you have to learn to live like your enemies to beat them. And you and I know who won that war.” Poppy notices Esmeralda and waves. In broken Spanish, she motions toward the door outside and says, “
Comemos
afuera
, outside.” After miming a few more times, the housekeeper nods at Poppy.

“Now, where was I?” Poppy sighs, hating how easily off-track her thoughts can get now. “Oh right. Well, one other thing William told me about that scandal was one of the lawyers for the Cohens had let it slip that the senior Cohen had a clause put into his will, which stipulated that only a Cohen can take over the company.”

“You’re suggesting that Camila will head Cohen Real Estate?”

Poppy nods. “I called Shoshana’s mother, Natalie, this morning and fished around. Shoshana is still at Bard and years away from settling on any kind of career. If she’s anything like her mother, which I suspect she is, it’ll probably be some do-gooder thing. Camila, on the other hand, seems to have the right pedigree.”

Norah gives her a look and shakes her head.

“You can’t doubt my instincts. I have an eye for talent and where it belongs. She’s the right age, racial make-up and impeccably educated. Natalie told me she grew up on Jefferson Avenue. With the right connections, possibly a mother-in-law who’s an Appellate Court Judge . . . .”

“That cancer of yours is depleting your brain cells. You cannot possibly believe
that
bartender can enter the political arena in New York,” she scoffs.

“Maybe it is depleting my brain cells, but if you weren’t so biased, you’d see I’m right. Of course she may not get involved in the next year or even five years. She has something that we don’t—time. Step back and consider her credentials and what she can accomplish as the head of Cohen Real Estate. She’ll be in a position to literally shape the City.” Poppy stops to catch her breath. “Remember how we’d always talked about what it would be like to be the most powerful women in the City, and what we’d do? We may not have realized our goals perfectly, but we’ve never given up on the opportunity to mentor equally ambitious young women.”

Norah nods, slowly coming around to the idea.

“Ellen wasn’t the right person for Marshall. I know you saw the opportunity for them to be power players in D.C., with her as a Senator and him at the DOJ. But she was too singularly focused on her own objectives. That girl out there,” Poppy nods towards the door leading to the veranda, “I bet you couldn’t find a speck of dirt on her if you tried. She’s brimming with so much raw potential. And you, my friend, with all your contacts down at City Hall and in Albany are well-positioned to help her. And unlike Ellen, I’m sure your efforts will not be wasted.” She pats Norah on the shoulder and begins to lead her outside when she sees the housekeepers pushing a trolley toward the outdoor kitchen. “As for Marshall, I think you’ll have to accept that, at the core, he’s still a man and will do whatever it takes to be with her. You just have to figure out how to mitigate the risk to his career. He may want to be discreet about it until that young woman graduates, but . . . .” Poppy nods her head in Camila’s direction. “I doubt she’ll want to be anyone’s secret girlfriend.” She pauses and sighs. “Maybe Warren can help.”

“Warren and I haven’t spoken in years,” Norah reminds her.

“Understandable. Although I’m sure he’d take a call from you if it concerns Marshall.”

Chapter 53

“You promise no more unexpected meals or guest appearances, right?” Camila sighs and throws herself onto the sofa in her hotel room. She gazes out at the beach where she’d much rather have spent the past three hours.

Shoshana walks over to Camila and holds out her pinky. “Pinky promise. I’ll even spit on my hand if you want.”

Camila circles her cousin’s pinky with hers. “No need.” She tugs on her finger a bit. “Now you have to tell me about Eitan.”

“Says who?” Shoshana unlocks her pinky hold.

“You, last night,” Camila reminds her. “I asked you what he’s doing in New York, but we got interrupted.” She tries not to recall what that interruption was for. Dare is complete, brunch is over. Now they can both move on.

“I told you he works for the Israeli Consulate.”

“Doing what exactly?” Camila presses.

Shoshana shrugs. “Security stuff.”

Her cousin sits up a bit straighter. “What kind of ‘security stuff’?” She asks, using air quotes.

“Personal,” Shoshana mumbles.

“You mean he’s Mossad?”

“I don’t know, maybe. He hasn’t said it explicitly.” Shoshana shifts from one foot to the other. “But I suspect he is. I mean, Eitan has this incredible body . . . .” She stops momentarily, getting a faraway look in her eye.

“Please do not picture fucking him while we’re having a conversation.”

Shoshana snaps back to reality. “Right, anyway, it’s not like he discusses work, which tips me off right there.”

“You’re introducing him as soon as we get back to New York,” Camila insists.

“Fat chance. Three months, then you meet him.”

“Three months is such an arbitrary amount of time.”

“Hardly,” her cousin rebuts. “Consider your thing with Marshall.”

“We don’t have a ‘thing’.”

“It’s been three months since you guys met. A lot has happened in that time, wouldn’t you say?”

Camila shakes her head and lies down on the sofa. “Thinking about it makes me sleepy.”

“Three months is such a growth period. Think about it. You just had brunch with his mom. Have you ever met any guy’s mom before?”

Camila shakes her head.

“You see?” Shoshana walks to her room and starts to change. “At least his mom made an effort and talked to you for a few minutes.”

“Weather is hardly topical.”

“It’s a start,” her cousin tells her. “Dahlia is hilarious. She obviously gets that from her mom. I never saw that side to Poppy. Whenever she came over, she seemed so put-together and serious.”

“Maybe it’s the Miami weather like she suggested.” Camila shrugs.

“Speaking of which, there’s still about four hours of sun left. Let’s go down to the pool.” She throws a cover-up over her wine-colored bikini as she comes out of her room.

“I’m so sleepy. Maybe I’ll nap first.”

“Nap by the pool.” Shoshana flings a green bikini at Camila. “I’ll go down and get some chairs. Don’t take too long. Oh, I ordered more towels so they should be delivered soon.”

“Shit,” Camila complains, fumbling with the bikini string at the middle of her back. A knock at the door interrupts her litany of Spanish curses. “Be right there,” she calls. She tosses the top onto her bed and throws on a t-shirt. “Go ahead and leave . . . .” Camila’s words disappear when she sees Marshall at the door.

“But I just got here,” he says.

“Yeah, sorry. I thought you were the person from housekeeping delivering some extra towels,” Camila replies awkwardly.

“You seem disappointed I’m not.”

Camila shakes her head. “No, I’m just surprised.” Her foot starts to roll from side-to-side. “I wasn’t expecting you.” A sudden weight lands over her chest. She hasn’t been alone with Marshall since the night he told Camila he was in love with her. The restaurant doesn’t count in her mind because it was easy. Easy being relative, of course. Then, only so much could be said in a short amount of time, and they were in public. Regardless of what was spoken then, neither one had the inclination to think about what any of it meant. Brunch was spent discussing school, New York versus Miami, the latest books read, the most recent movies watched. Everything was polite but hardly personal.

Now they’re together, and Camila is finding it hard to remember what transpired only minutes before.

Marshall clears his throat. “May I come in?”

Camila nods and steps to the side. She stands by the door and waits as he circles the living room.

“Am I interrupting something?”

“I was going to meet Shosh at the pool,” she replies. Her nervousness is giving way to anxiety. When she’d admitted to her feelings outside the restaurant, it seemed like enough. Camila figured that when they returned to New York, they would carry on as they had been, professor and student. Lovers didn’t seem to be part of the equation. Nor did it the other night. Even though she felt drawn to him, she wondered if they would ever cross that arbitrary line again. At brunch, it certainly didn’t seem to be a possibility. They kept a polite distance in front of his mother although Camila hadn’t really entertained the thought. Somehow, once all the feelings were laid out on the table, his and hers, a random hook-up in Miami seemed cheap to her.

“Where’s your mom?”

“She said she was tired of me and wanted to spend the evening with Poppy. Best guess is they’re sipping Pellegrino and talking. It’s all they ever do.”

“So you thought you’d come here?”

“Couldn’t think of anywhere else I wanted to be. You don’t seem too happy to see me though,” he observes.

Camila crosses her arms. “I just don’t know what to do when I’m around you. Despite whatever you’ve told your mom, you and I aren’t dating.”

“But I thought we both want that. What will it take?”

Camila responds with a look.

“You graduate in six months. We can keep it under wraps til then.”

Camila shakes her head. “I’m not into hiding.”

“Would you prefer I speak to the Dean? I can’t say that’s my preference, but I’ll consider whatever you have in mind.”

“We both know that none of the options are ideal. The fact that you teach at the same school where I’m a student will follow us. People will always assume that that’s how we met and that we had some cheap professor/student affair. No matter what we accomplish as individuals, that’s what we’ll be known for. Is that what you want.”

“I want to be with you, C.C. I don’t care about what others think.”

Camila raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t tell your mom that I’m in law school. I caught all of her jibes and innuendos about my job. I get it. She thinks I’m blue collar. I’d rather be judged for that than for seducing my Law Review advisor.”

“We both know . . . .”

“We do, and some of our friends. It means nothing in the court of public opinion.”

“But last night . . . are you willing to let this go after that?”

Camila shifts her weight under his gaze. She distinctly recalls the way his fingers felt on her skin and how much she wanted him when his lips touched her ear. If she gives herself permission, she can easily let those feelings flood her like they did last night. Giving in is the easy part. Waiting and wanting, less so.

“I don’t want to be the person you regret. You should go,” Camila tells Marshall.

The expression on Marshall’s face is a mix of shock and hurt. He wants to believe they can make it work, yet he only saw it from his perspective and the damage to his reputation. He didn’t stop to consider how it would feel to be his secret lover. And as much as he declares he wants to be with her, she remembers what Felicity had told her. Men often show you who they are in the beginning. 

He’d left her once. Again those three words come back to haunt him.
We’re cool, right
. Marshall runs a hand over his face. “I won’t promise that I’ll find it challenging at times, but I’m clear about this,” he waves a hand back and forth between them. “I know that I’ll regret giving up on us.”

Camila leans against the wall, her arms still folded in front of her. She’s on the defense. No matter what Marshall says, they both understand there are no guarantees. What he’s asking is for her to take that leap of faith, again. She’d done it once and landed on her face. “What makes you think you won’t run again?”

Marshall takes a few steps toward her and stops. “Because I hated how it felt to be away from you.”

“And yet it changes nothing.” Camila opens the door.