Prologue
*Virginia*
I take a deep breath, my fingers toying with the edge of my silk blouse as I stand in the grand living room of our family’s Savannah plantation. The high ceilings loom above me like my parent’s expectations, expectations I can’t shake off. Every piece of antique furniture, every gilded frame on the wall, seems to whisper the same thing: Virginia Claire Harrington, you were meant for greatness… Our idea of greatness.
My dream, my real dream, what I want, is within reach… problem is that it is not my parents dream for me, and I am not sure how they will take this.
My parents enter, both hugging me, and my mother gestures for me to sit. “The tea will be here any minute.”
My parents sit across from me, their expressions mostly curious, but also confused, they are not used to me asking for a talk. My father, Governor Charles Harrington the second, with his steely gray eyes, is the epitome of Southern conservative authority. He’s the kind of man who can command a room with just a glance, and right now, that glance is piercing through me like a laser.
My mother, Charlotte, delicate and poised, is fiddling with her pearls… a nervous habit she’s had since I was old enough to recall. She’s the image of an aging Southern Belle, always adorned with the latest fashions, her hair perfectly coiffed, and her smile a soft facade mostly hiding her true thoughts.
Straightening my back I tell them what I came to say, before I lose my courage.
“Ginnie, I thought we discussed your future,” my father says, his voice calm but edged with disappointment, as if I’ve just informed him I’m running off to join the circus. “We paid for Harvard for you… you graduated with honour.”
“I know, Dad,” I reply, trying to keep my tone light, but their reaction to my decision feels like a boulder on my chest. “But the Charleston Pelicans are giving me a huge chance… and I get to make a real impact in an industry I love. I mean, it’s hockey, for heaven’s sake!”
My mother’s expression twists slightly, as if I’ve mentioned the most ludicrous of things. “Hockey? Really, dear? That’s not a place for a young woman. What about your law career? What about family and kids? Your sister…”
“Is perfect, I know!” I interject, unable to help the edge creeping into my voice. “But I’m not her. I’m not looking to host charity galas or marry a politician. I just want to do something that excites me, something that feels real.”
“But the political arena then…” my father starts, but I cut him off, my pulse racing.
“Maybe I don’t want to be a senator anymore than I want to be a senator’s wife, Dad. Maybe I want to be the one making the decisions about my future.” I can feel my heart pounding in my ears. This is the first time I’ve actually stood up for myself in this room, with its plush carpets and gilded mirrors reflecting what my parents expect me to be… a flawless daughter, a perfect Southern lady.
Mom’s eyes soften, and she leans forward, her voice gentle, almost pleading. “Sweetheart, your sister is engaged to a young man from one of the best families, with a brilliant career in front of him, and your brother is still in school. You could use this time to meet someone special, to settle down.”
“Settle down? Mom, I’m twenty-five! I just graduated from Harvard Law! I’m not ready to settle down. I want to conquer the world first, or at least a hockey team.” My words hang in the air, defiant and electric. My mom had not been happy that I wanted to study law, but she assumed I might meet a husband there.
For a moment, silence envelops us, thick and suffocating. The portraits of my ancestors seem to peer down at me, judging and curious. I can almost hear my grandmother’s voice echoing through the halls: “Ginnie, don’t forget who you are.” But who am I, really? A dutiful daughter, a perfect Southern Belle, or someone who dares to carve her own path?
Finally, my brother, Charlie, bursts through the door, his youthful energy a welcome distraction. “What’s going on? You look like you’re about to declare war!” He grins, his messy hair sticking up in all directions, the perfect embodiment of teenage rebellion.
“Virginia is going to work for some seagulls!” my mother announces, as if it’s a scandalous secret.
I sigh, “Pelicans… The Charleston Pelicans. You know, the NHL team.”
“Awesome!” Charlie exclaims, his eyes lighting up. “Can I get free season tickets?”
“Maybe,” I smile, the tension easing just a bit. But I can still feel my parents’ disapproval lurking in the corners, like shadows in a dimly lit room.
I turn back to my parents, determination igniting within me. “This is my life. I want to take risks. I want to do something I love. If you can’t support that… I’m sorry, but I can’t live for your dreams anymore.”
As I say the words, a strange thrill courses through me, as if I’ve finally stepped off the well-trodden path and onto something wild and uncertain. I glance at Charlie, who gives me an encouraging nod.
“Well, don’t blame me when you realise your mistake,” my mother says. “And be careful, those hockey players are so… primitive… they might see a woman working in such a place as… available.”
I just nod, nothing comes from starting that discussion with my mother.
