The CEO’s Quadruplets

Isabella adored her.

“I am so glad you came,” Isabella told her sister-in-law as she embraced her.

“Me too. Evan is home with Leo, so while they’re having boys’ night I get to be an adult.”

Isabella laughed. “I want to see them though. I love that little munchkin of yours.”

“Well…” Anne smiled as she leaned in. “Maybe you should think about getting your own? I would make a very cool aunt.”

Isabella whispered in response, “Let’s just say… it’s in the works. I’ll be keeping you posted.”

Anne raised her eyebrows in surprise and delight. “Really? Should I clear the house?”

Isabella hit her playfully on the arm. “Oh my god, no! My parents are here.”

“If it means grandkids, I don’t think Behati would really mind.”

It was a true story that her mother asked when she was having children as soon as she knew she was married. There was no offer of congratulations or words of surprise. Isabella could still hear her Afrikaner accent in a business-like monotone as she looked her down across the dinner table. The tiny South African had been dying for grandchildren ever since her own little birds left the nest. Isabella’s father liked the quiet, but Patrick Torres also liked his wife to be happy. It just made his life easier.

Isabella was thankful that her parents were not in earshot of the conversation she and Anne were having as Anne cut them both a piece of cake. Instead, they were talking with Amory’s mother by the bar where Patrick was trying to pick a drink for himself. As she moved closer, she heard how the conversation was going.

“Torres is such an interesting name. Are you related to the candy making chef with the same name?” Amory’s mother asked awkwardly.

“It’s Spanish,” Patrick said with a slight frown. “My ancestors were sailors and free men who helped with the colonization of Central America.”

“That had to be awkward for them!”

Isabella heard the woman laugh, and wanted to die. Her parents were graceful about it, but Amory’s polite salvation of his mother still did not stop Isabella’s gut from wrenching into a twisted contortion inside her.

“Mom, I don’t know if we can talk about awkward names. My name is a bit ridiculous, is it not?”

“Oh, Amory dear, I think you have a darling name!” Behati said as she pinched his cheeks. “Almost as sweet as the ice cream I am going to go get right now.”

Isabella watched as both her parents disappeared as Amory distracted his mother.

“You have a name from classic literature! Fitzgerald crafted it into creation? Who better than an American novelist of such fame? I could have named you Absalom if you preferred!”

Amory sighed. “Mom, Amory was the kid of a socialite who spent most of his life futilely chasing women. I hope I don’t have that misfortune.”

Their eyes met across the room, and Isabella smiled. The knowing glance melted away the chaos and anxiety inside her mind for just a moment. Isabella felt calm again.

Stepping toward them, she motioned to the empty couch, saying, “Why don’t we all have a seat here? I would hate for the sofa to feel left out of the party.”

Anne laughed, a bit tipsy from the whisky punch available as she replied, “”Sounds good to me!”

Plopping down, they all found their seats in the arrangement of furniture. A good deal of people had wandered out to the lovely garden where the pool glowed from electric lotus blossoms that floated across the surface of the water. Fortunately, Isabella could feel the springtime breeze from her spot on the sectional as well as see almost all of the party unfold. She could see all the way into the kitchen where a few people chatted around bowls of ice cream as they poured rum over their frozen dessert.

Unfortunately, Amory’s mother began to speak again as they all slowly settled in.

Amory’s mother, Valentina Blake, was a severe woman who liked to pretend to trips abroad were not for plastic surgery. Her hair extensions curled and swept down over her shoulder. Her designer suit, however, was perfectly tailored to her body, showing off the figure she paid for through trainers and spas. Every time Isabella saw her mother-in-law, she wondered how much money she had most recently spent on whatever minor change on her person, and it was more or less than the wine she had in her hand.

Even now, the woman swirled a deep red wine in the stemless glass as she wore the same satisfied expression that Valentina always did. What was she so dissatisfied with? Her daughter-in-law or her Botox?

“I just had this wonderful new vampire facial done. It’s where they drew my own blood and injected all kinds of good things and plasma right back into my face. After a day I looked so many years younger!” Valentina prattled on. “Don’t I look so much younger, Anne?”

Anne rolled her eyes, and she was obviously bored of the dramatics occurring next to her on the sofa as she blankly replied, “Yes, you look not a day above the trendiest age.”

“What is that to mean, Annie?!” Valentina was verging on hysterics as her voice rose through the phrase.

Anne shrugged. “What age would you be if you did not know how old you were?”

“I would be ninety!” Behati joked as she came from the kitchen with a bowl of ice cream in her hands. “My knees have been giving me such a time in the garden recently, and they make me feel nearly a century old.”

“Well, you look not a day older than the day we met,” Isabella’s father called as she came with their drinks.

Both sitting in the vintage loveseat across from the sofa together, Isabella’s mother gave him a kiss on the cheek for the compliment.

“Where did you two meet, if you don’t mind me asking?” Amory offered, happily steering away from his mother who now sipped her wine in discontent.

Behati grinned, eager to tell her story as she began, “We met at Catholic wedding, but not in the service. We both were young, and it was his cousin getting married. I knew the bride from summer camp of all places, and I was a bridesmaid. Now, Patrick was standing outside the reception where his date was making a scene. She was fussing about taking him to such a dull event, and hopped into a cab without even a goodbye. So, I took my champagne out to him and asked if he needed a replacement date. And what did you say, dear?”