Chương 2
The office door opened without a knock.
Madison entered, followed by Tessa and a security guard named Darnell. Madison’s train was wet and gray at the edges. She still held her shoulders like someone being photographed.
“I need to speak to my mother alone.”
Darnell looked at Eleanor.
“No,” Eleanor said.
Madison’s face changed. “You’re making security supervise me?”
“You walked past him after he asked you to wait.”
“This is my wedding.”
“Not anymore.”
Tessa shifted near the door. She wore a copper-colored bridesmaid dress and an expression of concentrated concern that Eleanor had seen on publicists standing beside disgraced clients.
“Mrs. Blake,” Tessa said, “people are confused. It might help if we all calmed down before anything gets posted without context.”
Marisol handed Eleanor the water.
Eleanor drank, set the cup down, and studied Tessa. “How many people were told to record?”
Tessa blinked.
Madison answered for her. “People record weddings.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
“No one was told.”
Eleanor looked at Tessa again.
Tessa touched the pendant at her throat. “We reminded guests that Madison and Noah wanted candid content.”
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
“Ten? Twenty?”
“It was just the wedding party and a few friends.”
Madison folded her arms. “You’re acting like there was some conspiracy.”
“You had a microphone in one hand and a bucket in the other.”
“The bucket was already there.”
“It was beside the champagne tower.”
“Exactly.”
“No. Not exactly.”
Noah appeared in the doorway behind Darnell.
He had removed his tuxedo jacket. His white shirt showed a damp patch beneath one arm. Eleanor had always liked that Noah looked less polished when he was worried. It suggested a person existed beneath the manners.
“Madison,” he said, “the cars are coming.”
“You told them to leave?”
“The staff did.”
“You could have stopped them.”
“Why would I stop them?”
“Because they’re our guests.”
“They watched you dump a bucket on your mother.”
“She ruined every part of this wedding.”
Eleanor looked at him before he could ask the question. “I did not.”
Madison turned on her. “The seating plan. The florist. The guest count. The band contract. Every day, another email from you or Marisol telling me what I couldn’t have.”
“Fireworks during drought restrictions were not available for discussion.”
“It rained last week.”
“That is not how restrictions work.”
“And you moved the champagne tower.”
“Because your planner placed it in front of an emergency exit.”
Madison gave a small, bitter laugh. “There. That. You can’t stop. You have to correct everything.”
“No,” Eleanor said. “I have to keep two hundred people safe on property I own.”
Madison’s lips parted.
Noah looked between them. “What does she mean, property she owns?”
The question was quiet enough that Eleanor almost missed it.
Madison did not look at him.
Noah stepped farther into the office. “You said Bellweather was in the family trust.”
“It is in the family.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Madison’s eyes moved toward Tessa. Tessa looked at the floor.
Eleanor stood and removed one long silver earring, then the other. Her fingers were beginning to shake, and she did not want Madison to see.
“Bellweather Estate is owned by Bellweather Operations LLC,” she said. “I am the sole member.”
Noah stared at Madison. “You told me you owned half.”
“I said I had an interest.”
“You said we could use it as collateral if the Mercer House launch needed another round.”
Marisol stopped beside the desk.
Eleanor set her earrings carefully on a stack of catering invoices.
“What launch?” she asked.
Madison’s face emptied.
Noah looked as though he had spoken through a door he had not known was locked. “Madison.”
“Not here.”
“You told me your mother signed the letter.”
Tessa whispered, “Noah, stop.”
Eleanor’s wet hair clung to the back of her neck. “What letter?”
Madison took one step toward Noah. “We are not doing this in front of staff.”
“Marisol is not staff,” Eleanor said. “She is the chief operating officer.”
“Fine. In front of the chief operating officer.”
Darnell shifted his weight and stared toward the corridor, trying to offer privacy without abandoning his position.
Noah rubbed his forehead. “The investment letter. For the home-and-hospitality company. Madison said Bellweather would guarantee the venue side of the business.”
Eleanor did not immediately understand the words. The sentence sounded ordinary enough—investment, guarantee, venue—yet each part arrived with the faint wrongness of furniture in an unfamiliar room.
“I signed no letter.”
Noah looked at Madison.
Madison’s chin rose. “It wasn’t a guarantee.”
“You called it a guarantee.”
“It was a statement of future interest.”
“Signed by your mother.”
“She agreed to help me.”
“When?” Eleanor asked.
Madison looked directly at her now. “Dad intended Bellweather for me.”
The room went still in a new way.
Richard had been dead four years. His name remained capable of changing Eleanor’s breathing.
“That is not an answer,” she said.
“It is the answer.”
“No. It is a sentence you have used whenever a document says something you dislike.”
“You took over everything while he was sick.”
“I was his wife.”
“And I was his daughter.”
“Yes.”
“You act like those things were equal.”
“I have never said they were.”
“You never have to say anything. You just stand there being reasonable until everyone else looks insane.”
Eleanor heard the pressure in Madison’s voice, the old acceleration that began whenever she felt a room slipping away from her. As a child, she had talked faster before she cried. As an adult, she had trained herself not to cry where anyone could use it.
Noah sat in the empty chair.
“Is the letter real?” he asked.
Madison looked at him as if he had chosen an enemy.
“It came from our family office.”
“There is no family office,” Eleanor said.
“There was.”
“Richard had an accountant and a lawyer.”
“You closed it.”
May you like
“I retained both of them.”
Noah leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “The letter was on Blake Family Holdings letterhead.”
