Part 2
Cassandra’s breathing changed.
“Elias,” she said.
He folded the cloth once.
The quartet beyond the partition had gone completely silent.
“Everyone needs to leave the hangar,” he said.
The smile disappeared before anyone could decide what it meant.
Cassandra blinked. “What?”
Elias turned toward Daniel Rusk, the restoration director, who stood near a red tool cabinet with his hands tucked under his arms.
“Clear the floor,” Elias said. “Technicians, vendors, event staff. Give us ten minutes.”
Daniel nodded immediately.
The motion released the room. People began moving, slowly at first, then with the awkward efficiency of those who wanted to appear as though they had not been listening. The florist pushed her cart toward the partition. Two technicians gathered a tray of tools that had not needed gathering. A caterer disappeared through a side door carrying an empty silver pitcher.
Mara remained beside the aircraft.
“So do I,” Cassandra said. “You said everyone.”
“You, your aunt, Mara, and I are staying.”
Lydia found her voice. “I’m not comfortable with that tone.”
Elias looked at her.
It was not a dramatic look. He simply waited.
Lydia adjusted the cuff of her cream dress. “There are guests waiting.”
“I’m aware.”
“Some of them are very important people.”
“They can wait ten minutes.”
Cassandra’s eyes dropped to the ring. “Should I pick that up?”
“No.”
The word was quiet.
She looked at him as though he had struck something from her hand a second time.
Elias turned to Mara. “Ask security to close the north doors. No cameras. Have someone tell the guests there’s a mechanical delay.”
Mara’s brows lifted almost imperceptibly.
“A mechanical delay?” Cassandra repeated.
Elias looked toward the open service panel.
“For once,” he said, “it will be true.”
Lydia exhaled through her nose. “Sarcasm is beneath you.”
“So was the floor.”
Mara’s gaze shifted to him. It was the first sign that she had not expected the remark.
Elias rubbed the cloth over his palm again. He wished he had not said it. The line had been easy, and easy cruelty had always made him distrust himself. He had watched his father use it at board meetings, smiling while men twice his age lost color in their faces. As a teenager, Elias had admired the control. By thirty-two, he understood it was often just anger wearing a tailored suit.
Cassandra took one careful step toward him. Her satin heel stopped several inches from the ring.
“You could have told me,” she said.
“I did tell you.”
“No. You gave me fragments. You told me you managed restoration projects. You said your family had an interest in the company. You never said you owned it.”
“I said the company belonged to my family.”
“You let me think your family were minority investors.”
“I never said that.”
“That is what you wanted me to think.”
Lydia nodded. “Exactly.”
Elias looked past Cassandra toward the white partition. Behind it waited two hundred guests, an officiant, a ten-tier cake, a choir Cassandra had flown in from Boston, and an aisle constructed from pale oak panels that had taken three days to assemble over the concrete. His mother’s empty chair stood in the front row with a sprig of lavender tied to one arm. He had placed it there himself before dawn.
He had imagined walking past that chair with Cassandra’s hand in his.
He had not imagined the diamond on the floor.
“What did you think I did here?” he asked.
Cassandra folded her arms, then unfolded them when the movement pulled at the fitted bodice of her gown.
“You restored planes.”
“I do.”
“As a job.”
“It is my job.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I’m not sure I do anymore.”
The north hangar doors began sliding shut behind them, muting the daylight. The warm band across the floor narrowed until the ring fell into shadow.
Lydia watched the doors close. “This is becoming unnecessarily theatrical.”
“No,” Mara said. “It became theatrical when your niece dropped a diamond in front of forty employees.”
Lydia turned sharply. “You are counsel, not family.”
“That distinction is why I’m still useful.”
Mara tapped her tablet, read something, and placed it on a nearby workbench. Her hands were empty when she faced Cassandra again.
“The trust document is not a punishment clause,” she said. “You were not deprived of money that belonged to you. You were offered prospective marital benefits that had not yet vested. Your own attorney reviewed the conditions with you twice.”
Cassandra looked at Elias. “You planned for this.”
“I planned for the possibility that someone might want the trust more than they wanted me.”
“So this was a test.”
His jaw tightened.
Mara looked down.
Lydia seized the opening. “There. You see? He engineered this. He dressed like this on his wedding day, let you walk in here, and waited to see what you would do.”
“I was repairing the aircraft,” Elias said.
“Of course you were.”
“The honeymoon flight was scheduled for six. Daniel found a hydraulic pressure drop at eleven twelve. I was the person available who knew the original conversion system.”
“You own a company full of mechanics.”
“Technicians,” Elias said. “And they were finishing the inspection.”
Lydia gave a small wave of dismissal. “The terminology does not matter.”
“It matters to them.”
Cassandra stared at the open service panel. “You were going to fly that thing today?”
“That thing was my father’s last project.”
“I thought we were taking the jet.”
“We discussed the flight.”
“You said it would be a surprise.”
“It was supposed to be.”
A new expression appeared on her face, something between confusion and resentment. “You wanted me to get into an antique aircraft without telling me?”
“I told you we were flying after the reception.”
“You didn’t tell me in what.”
“You said you liked surprises.”
“I meant flowers, Elias.”
He nearly laughed, but nothing about her face permitted it.
May you like
The side door opened, and Daniel leaned in.
“Floor is clear,” he said. “Guests have been told there’s a delay. Security has the exterior.”
