Christian's POV. Since the charity ball, Christian has been brooding over Grace's comments about Ana. He decides to set the record straight over lunch. Yes, this Christian is being mature!

Gold Digger

It's barely nine o'clock. My phone buzzes and Grace's name flashes on the screen. Again. I let it go to voicemail. Again. I'm uncomfortable. Her comments Saturday night insinuating that Ana was with me for my money keep coming back to my mind. Truly, Grace doesn't know Ana at all, or she would never consider the possibility, but that's not exactly her fault, is it? She's seen her three times, and if I really consider the situation objectively, it's true that a twenty-one-year-old with student debt off-loading twenty-four thousand dollars at an auction, bidding on a weekend stay at a property owned by her billionaire boyfriend of only a few weeks, looks suspicious as hell. No wonder my mother almost had a coronary. Black sheep of the family or not, Grace would always look out for my interests and try to protect me.

I hear Ana's voice at the back of my head, repeating her words from our argument about her going to work on Sunday night. For heaven's sake, Christian, grow up.

Right, time to be an adult and set things right. I don't want Grace to alienate Ana for a stupid misunderstanding. I'll try to do some damage control on the break-up thing too while I'm at it.

I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, and hit the call-back button. Grace answers after two rings.

"Christian, darling, thanks for calling me back. Listen–"

I cut her off. "Hello, Mother. Please, let me speak first."

"Ok, son. I'm listening."

"First, I'm sorry for not taking your calls or calling you back. I was still angry about Sunday and being stubborn, and I wasn't ready to talk to you just yet."

"O–Okay." She sounds uncertain. Is it because I never apologize?

"What you're worried about regarding Anastasia, it's not true at all. She's the least acquisitive woman I've ever met, which is, incidentally, the very source of your misplaced anxiety. But like I said, it's quite a long story that I'd rather not tell you on the phone, in my office, when I might be interrupted at any moment. Are you free for lunch?"

On the other end of the line, I can hear Grace let out a breath she's probably been holding through my long tirade.

"Okay, darling. Yes, I can meet you for lunch. I must admit, I'm relieved. I thought you would be much angrier with me when you finally called back, and I wanted to apologize for being so blunt on Saturday. I realize I was out of line, speaking of Ana like that, but you know me, Christian. I'll always want to protect you. You've never been in a relationship before –that I know of– and I don't want you to be taken advantage of. I was just afraid you wouldn't forgive me."

"We're fine, Grace. I'll explain at lunch. Once you know the whole story, you'll see that it's all rather silly and that she's actually a wonderful person."

"You sound really happy Christian; it warms my heart to hear you like that. Shall we say one o'clock?"

"Thanks, mom. Sounds good to me. There's a nice little bistro a couple of blocks from my office building, would that work for you?" I ask. What's more, Grace sounds sincere, and I'm mollified.

"Absolutely."

"Great. I'll have Andrea book us a table and text you the address. See you then, Mother."

"I'm looking forward to it. And thanks again for offering, Christian." She hangs up.

I buzz Andrea and ask her to make a reservation for two at Robert's, one of my favorite French bistros. It's a casual setting but it's rarely crowded, and the food is terrific. It should be the perfect place to put Grace's mind at ease. I text her the address and can finally put the whole thing out of my mind until lunchtime.

I feel better knowing that particular thorn will soon be out of my side, and I can focus on my work. I read and make notes on a patent application, check the progress on the solar tablet design, and check on the revised business plan for SIP. Not a peep from Ana though, and I miss her. Is she avoiding me? Is she mad about Elena's visit last night? I rein in my anxiety: she's probably busy. With her creeper of a boss frustrated that he won't be taking her to New York, he probably has her slaving away.

At 12:15, I finally get a text from my girl.

Hi. Sorry for being quiet today. Jack is in a foul temper and had me running around all morning. –Ana

I smirk. I was right. See, nothing to worry about, Grey.

It's okay, I guessed as much. My morning's been busy too. And I'm having lunch with Grace. Do you need anything? –Christian

That sounds lovely, say hello for me, and congratulations again on the beautiful party. And yes, actually, I do. Could you text me Sawyer's number? –Ana

I will. Why do you need it? I'm more than happy to forward any messages. –Christian

It's just more convenient. Jack wants me to get his lunch again later, but I have some paperwork I need to finish first so I don't know how long I'll be before I leave exactly. –Ana

OK. I will (reluctantly) send you his contact info. But I'll miss the excuse for you to text me. –Christian.

Thank you. And FYI, I don't need an excuse to text you. Only a few minutes of spare time, which, incidentally, I didn't have today. –Ana

I have to get back. Enjoy lunch with your mom. ILY. xo. –Ana

I would enjoy it better with you. Until later, I'll miss you. –Christian.

I work some more, and at 12:45, I leave my office. Taylor joins me in the lobby, and I inform him that I'll be walking to the bistro. He insists on accompanying me and asking for a table for himself when we get there. I suspect he's secretly relishing the opportunity to enjoy their mouthwatering steak and fries, but I appreciate his dedication nonetheless. After all, wherever I go, danger might follow, and I need to keep Grace safe too.

I reach the restaurant, and Grace is waiting for me outside. I kiss her proffered cheek and we make our way inside. The hostess leads us to a quiet table and finds one in a corner for Taylor that offers him a good view of the front door, the emergency back exit, and Grace and me while giving us our privacy. He looks satisfied with his vantage point. He gives me a discreet nod, and I relax.

Grace and I make trivial chitchat until our waiter returns. I pass along Ana's message and tell my mother about our outing on the Grace on Sunday. She gives me a warm smile, and I know it is because she is glad to hear me talk about something other than work for once. We also discuss the success of the charity gala, and the number of families the money raised will help in the upcoming year. Coping Together might even be able to build an extension in one of the rehab centers.

Our orders placed at last, Grace looks at me expectantly. Suddenly, I'm nervous, and I don't know where to begin. Grace, as good a judge of a situation as ever, realizes I need prompting.

"Christian, you know I'm always happy to chat about your everyday life any time. But as I recall –and I'm not senile enough to forget a conversation we had this morning– you invited me to lunch because a misunderstanding needed to be clarified, and a story to be told."

"Yes, you're right." I collect my thoughts for a moment, then start talking. "So, I understand how, from your point of view, my just-graduated girlfriend spending an obscene amount of money at an auction when she most likely has a huge amount in student-loan debt may look extremely suspicious. Especially when, out of all the gifts being auctioned, she decides to bid on a weekend at my place."

"Yes, you can say that. I'm glad that at least you see where I'm coming from without me having to point it out. You also told me that there's a long story leading up to it. And from the exasperated look already on your face, I can guess it is a good one."

I frown. Do I already look exasperated? Well, she ain't seen nothing yet!

"As you may know, I met Anastasia just over a week before her graduation, when she took her sick friend's place to interview me for the student newspaper. On her graduation week, I took her to dinner in Portland. When I walked her to her car at the end of the evening, I almost had a heart attack. She was driving one of those old Volkswagen Beetles, from the 1960s I would guess. A small metal box with a rumbling engine, no airbags, barely a seatbelt, the mirrors probably hanging on by the sheer force of Ana's stubbornness… In a nutshell, a deathtrap."

Grace lets out the most inelegant snort just as our waiter appears with our plates. She's mortified, but I think it's just karma that she got caught. She shouldn't be mocking my anxiety: she knows me, knows my need to keep the people around me safe.

I take a bite of my food. "Hmm… This is delicious. How about you?"

"Splendid. Now, darling, please continue your story. I am really not regretting coming to hear this, it is extremely entertaining." My mother's eyes are shining with amusement.

I narrow my eyes at her but keep talking in between mouthfuls. "Anyway. I was terrified; made her promise to text me when she got home. I was half-convinced the whole thing would fall apart in the middle of the road. And since she was graduating, I decided to get her a brand-new, safe car as a graduation present."

"That was very generous of you. I'm sure she was thrilled," Grace interjects, enthusiasm plain on her face.

"You'd think. But no, not Ana. I had to negotiate forever for her to take it. Worse than one of my mergers! She went on and on that it was too much, that she couldn't accept such an expensive gift, that I really shouldn't have, that I barely knew her. In the end, I told her that I would have Taylor sell the deathtrap, that it would make up for part of the price of the A3, and she finally relented."

"Let me guess, you never intended to keep that money?" Grace rolls her eyes at me, and she reminds me so much of Ana at that moment that I want to laugh, but it's bitter.

I don't want to tell her the truth. That Ana left, never intending to come back, gave me back the Audi and ask for the money from the Beetle to get herself a new car. Better bend the truth to something that doesn't make me look too bad to my mom, and could have realistically happened had I not been so careless and selfish with Ana. I keep the guilt off my face and grin, mostly because of Grace's expression.

"No, I didn't. I knew immediately when I met her that she wasn't from a wealthy family. Her clothes, her demeanor in my office, her car… And I know how expensive the tuition at WSU gets, so I assumed she had quite a bit of student debt." Well, that's true enough. "Taylor told me he got twelve thousand dollars selling the Beetle –what kind of irresponsible maniac shells out that kind of money for a prehistoric tin can, I wonder." Focus, Grey. "I wanted to help, so I wrote her a check for double that amount, twenty-four thousand. That was round one in our little match."

Ok, the biggest lie, the most shameful secret is behind us.

"I think I see where this is going," Grace cuts in. Her eyes are bright, and I don't think I have ever seen her so amused by something I told her. It should be irritating that she is laughing at my expense, but given the crazy situations I have been in the last few days, it's refreshing.

I continue. "Flash forward to Saturday morning, I asked her if she'd cashed in the check. She gave me her most sarcastic smile and pulled the envelope out of her bedside table drawer." That's not really what happened, but it fits the narrative, and it doesn't really matter. "When I told her that she should really bank it, she looked me straight in the eye, ripped the thing in four, and threw it away. That was round two."

Our plates are clean and we wait for the server to come to clear the table and bring the dessert menu. "What happened on round three?" Grace encourages, completely invested in our little financial sparring.

"You know me, I'm stubborn. And I was determined that Ana used that money to clear part of her debt. So I called Andrea and had her direct deposit the money on Ana's bank account."

"You didn't!" Grace's eyes are wide. She is shocked, and I have to admit, I'm enjoying myself.

"I did. Let me tell you, she was outraged."

"Quick question: how did you get her bank account details?" my mother asks, eyebrow raised. Of course, she disapproves. That sobers me up a little.

"When I met Ana, I knew she was special," I say, a little sheepish in the face on my admission. "But as you always say, I need to protect my interests. So I had my security advisor run a background check on her to find out what kind of person she was before I got more invested. Just in case there was something fishy I hadn't picked up on. Bank info, rap sheet, and the like are all part of his standard investigation," I explain. "He does the same type of check for every new employee at GEH too."

Grace nods and gestures to me to resume my storytelling. She understands, and I relax. She doesn't think I'm a creepy stalker, thank God.

"Where was I? Ah, yes, Ana was mad about the wire transfer. So the Gala was the fourth and final round. I lost. Since she is so independent and determined to pay her loans back by herself, and I obviously was not going to let her convince me to take the money back, she did the next best thing. She gave it to the charity. She knows a little bit about my early childhood. Not much, you know I hate to talk about it, but she is persistent. Even though I didn't say anything specifically, she put two and two together that Coping Together exists in part because of me. She said it was a worthy cause."

"She certainly keeps you on your toes, doesn't she?" Grace remarks.

"That she does," I confirm.

Our desserts have arrived, and I am salivating just looking at the beautiful chocolate cake in front of me.

"There is one thing I don't understand." Grace looks perplexed. Where is she going with this? "She could have bid on any of the prizes during the auction. Why the weekend at your place? Other than maybe the bidding price fit what she wanted to spend, I mean. Do you know?"

I sigh. "I didn't ask, and I don't really know. But if I had to hazard a guess, I would say it was to push my buttons. She was mad at me that morning, and tipsy and exhilarated from the champagne and the party," –not to mention frustrated from wearing the kegel balls, but there is no way I'm telling my mom about those– "and she wanted to get back at me."

I try to unravel Anastasia's thought process and find the most likely explanation to give to Grace. "I know Ana didn't want the money, she knew I didn't want it back, and she wanted to make it disappear, as though it had never existed at all. I would guess that's the reason why she spent it on something we would never have had to pay for in the first place: a weekend in a place I already own. I think she didn't want anything in return. And, truthfully, I think deep down she wanted to have fun waving her little placard and calling out a bid over the room." I chuckle, and so does my mom. "You know, Anastasia had never attended any kind of grand event like your ball before. She's best friends with Eamon Kavanaugh's daughter –the girl Elliott took off to Barbados with– but from the sound of it, Kate never took her as her plus one to a fancy gala or any function like it. The gowns, the masks, the setting... Trying to see it through her eyes was humbling. But she was really excited to be there, and I suspect the auction was just another way to enjoy herself."

"Do you think maybe she was also trying to fit in a little bit? That she wanted to be a part of the action like everyone else? It has to be intimidating for someone who wasn't born into that lifestyle or hasn't had to make their way into it." I could have been stung by the implication that maybe Ana didn't belong, but Grace's tone is soft, thoughtful. She's not judging, simply attempting to put herself in my girl's shoes. And I'm touched that she is trying. My understanding, insightful mother, the angel doctor who saved my life.

I'm more subdued when I answer. "Perhaps. Whatever the case may be, I'm pretty sure she would have made a direct donation if that particular opportunity hadn't presented itself."

I'm astonished. I've told my mother everything I needed and planned to, and I don't want our time together to end. I don't think I've ever had such a nice, relaxed time just having lunch with her. Usually, I'm tense and itching to leave. I decide to order us coffee, just as an excuse to stay a little while longer.

"Well, Christian, it looks like I need to apologize to you again. You were right, I have nothing to worry about on that front. She sounds like a wonderful, kind, and generous young woman. I'm sorry I jumped to the wrong conclusions, and I think I may blame the champagne too, for speaking my mind so harshly. She seems to put a smile on your face and some sense in your head, and it's all I ever wanted for you."

I can feel my expression soften in response to Grace's words. "We really do love each other," I answer simply. And a smile lights up her face.

Her posture changes and I tense, responding to her discomfort.

"Can I ask you one last thing?" she pleads. "It's about what Elena told me, you and Ana breaking up. I know you brushed it off, but a mother always worries."

I shift in my seat, uncomfortable, trying to come up with a version of events that would satisfy her curiosity, quell her anxiety, and hide the parts of myself that I never, ever want my family to know about. And I start to regret that coffee.

"I don't need details, darling, I just want to understand what happened, since nothing looked amiss between you on Saturday," she amends, sensing my hesitation and trying to soothe me.

I take a deep breath and opt for a redacted executive summary. "You know how I usually am, especially at work. I like order, everything neatly organized and in its place, and everyone doing what I ask and what I expect. Ana called me a control freak the day we met, after talking for about five minutes. And she is… Let's say a free spirit. Smart, stubborn, and fiercely independent. As you said, she keeps me on my toes. Last week I lost my temper, we had a fight, and I behaved like a jerk. In the heat of that moment, it felt to both of us like we were too different, and we really couldn't make each other happy. She walked out. The minute she left, I was ashamed, which did nothing for my foul temper. And I already missed her. That's when Elena called, in the aftermath of that fight, to invite me to dinner. I was less than gracious to her, so she asked what was wrong. Insistently, I might add. I eventually told her I had met a girl but she had left me; at the time I was brooding and I didn't think we could ever patch it up. A few days later Ana and I had both cooled off, so I offered to take her to her friend's gallery opening in Portland in Charlie Tango, knowing that it would give us some time to talk it out. When we did, we realized we were both miserable without the other, and that if we both put in a bit of effort, maybe we could make it work. So here we are, working on it, and even if it's recent it's already smoother this time around." I hesitate. "Maybe we needed it to happen, to force us to see that, even though it might be hard, what we could have together is worth putting in the effort, and we shouldn't give up at the first bump in the road."

Real flowery, Grey.

But I think this is truthful enough while keeping our sex life out of the equation, as well as the depth of Elena's involvement in my romantic life. At the heart of it all, that was the real problem, and that's what we're working on. I study Grace. The anxiety has left her eyes, but she still looks hurt and I think I know why. I reach across the table and take her hand in mine. She looks into my eyes.

"Mom. It's not like I kept it from you on purpose but called Elena to tell her. We're friends and business partners, yes, but it's not like I confide in her about every minutiae of my private life. She just happened to call on the day that it happened. If we hadn't sorted it out and made up, of course, I would have told you. But we did, so I didn't. I know how you fret over the three of us, and I didn't want you to worry over something that didn't matter anymore since we're working it out together. I'm really happy, Mom. Okay?"

"Okay, Christian, thanks for telling me. You would have realized at one point or another that relationships are never effortless anyway, you know. But I'm glad you got there in the end. I really enjoy seeing you like this, with light and life in your eyes." Her smile is almost blinding.

Taylor comes up to the table and informs me that Andrea emailed him to remind me that my next meeting is in twenty minutes. Crap, I forgot my phone was on silent. I signal for the check.

"Be careful though," Grace adds as Taylor retreats, a teasing glint in her eye.

"Of what, mom?"

"You and Anastasia are on track to becoming what Mia would call 'we' people." She laughs.

"What are 'we' people?" I ask, puzzled.

"Oh, you know… 'We' went sailing… 'We' wouldn't have needed to pay for a weekend in Aspen… 'We' had a fight… 'We' are working it out… Watch out, darling, or soon enough it will be 'We' are getting a dog and 'We' are looking for a new place in a better school district."

I blanch, and Grace laughs. "Don't look so worried, Christian, you've got plenty of time to think about that. I'm just teasing you." And she winks. Grace winked at me! I'm stunned, speechless, but as I recover, I start laughing too.

We exit the restaurant together, both looking happier than we ever have after having lunch together. And a particularly long one at that. I feel lighter, buoyant even. Mission accomplished. I dispelled all of my mother's wrong assumptions about Anastasia and even had a good time doing it. But then, it's always a pleasure to talk about my girl.

Walking back to the office with Taylor at my side, my thoughts stray not to Ana but to Flynn, of all people. I find I'm looking forward to our next session. Next time, I'll come to him not with my misery, but with a victory. I solved a conflict with my mother calmly, without sulking, around a meal, like an adult. What was he saying about me living my adolescence ten years too late?

Take that, expensive charlatan!

Grey, that was childish.

I know. But as I enter the lobby of Grey House, I'm smiling like an idiot, in a soaring mood for my meeting.

In the elevator, I shoot a quick text to my beautiful girl.

Lunch with Grace was great. She's glad you enjoyed yourself at the masquerade and is happy to see us happy. And I AM happier than I ever thought I would be, thanks to you. I can't wait to see you tonight. –Christian.