Brooklyn Gothic by C.G. Twiles

Author:C.G. Twiles [Twiles, C.G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Muradal Publishing

29

The next day, the long gape of silence on the phone that followed Casey’s engagement news indicated the conversation with her mother wasn’t going to go as she’d hoped.

“You need to slow down, Cassilda Maria,” her mother finally said. “You can’t dump this on me. You’re taking me for a loop.”

Cassilda Maria. Her mother hadn’t used Cassilda Maria on her in years, not since Casey had been a mildly rebellious teenager. The combination of her birth names meant trouble.

“What am I dumping on you, Mom? I’m calling to tell you.”

“You’re calling to tell me, but it sounds like I get no say. It sounds like you’ve made up your mind. Who is this man? We haven’t even met him!”

Given her mother’s reaction, Casey realized there was no way she could tell her mother the full scope of Mr. Foster’s health situation, and the reason he wanted to get married so fast is because something could happen to him. She also knew telling her mother they were moving to Geneva wasn’t going to go over well either. She decided to focus on the positive.

“Mom, you’ll really like him. We’ve been working closely together and have spent more time together than most people do who date for longer.” As she said it, she realized they hadn’t worked that closely together, though it had sure felt like it at times, and she was exaggerating to allay her mom’s concerns—and maybe her own. “Besides, didn’t you always say you knew the minute you met Dad that you’d marry him? You always said you got engaged after only four months.”

Casey had been a late in life baby, and her mom was nearing seventy, her father eighty. She’d always felt like a bit of an orphan, her parents so much older, so much closer to leaving her than those of her peers. She wondered if this was part of what drew her to Mr. Foster. His orphan status was legitimate, but neither of them had the parental support system most people their age did. Combine that with her career centered on death and tragedy, and she wondered if she had been primed to fall in love with a man who had a potential time bomb in his brain.

“That’s me and your father, Cassilda Maria, not you. Your generation is supposed to be smarter about things like that. What is this man’s name?”

Casey sighed. “Samuel Foster. I’ve told you this.” She artfully directed the conversation to his wealth, hoping that would soften her mother up. “He’s part of the Foster shipping family. It’s an old family. You can find them on Wikipedia.”

Her mother remained unimpressed. “Shipping family? What does that mean? Does he have a job?”

“He has a foundation.”

“Foundation? That’s not a job. So you’re saying he’s rich?”

Leave it to her mother to get straight to the point.

“He lives in a mansion. I work here, I’ve told you that. Are you having memory problems? What does living in a mansion tell you?”

“How do you know he didn’t

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