Part 11
Mason looked at Celeste.
“What do we do?”
The question was not only about the documents.
Celeste knew that.
She looked down at the legal agreement.
“First, we keep Wren with us.”
Mason nodded.
“Second, we find Nora.”
“Yes.”
“Third, we stop pretending this is a wedding.”
The words were quiet.
But they reached him.
Mason’s shoulders tightened.
Celeste closed the folder.
“I’m not saying that to punish you,” she said. “I’m saying it because there is no version of this night where we stand under those flowers and make promises while a child waits to learn whether her father will choose her.”
Mason looked at Wren.
The girl had begun to droop against him. The fear and crying had exhausted her. Her cheek rested near his shoulder. One hand still held the rabbit keychain.
“I wouldn’t leave her,” he said.
“I know.”
The answer hurt because it was not forgiveness.
It was simply fact.
Celeste moved toward the window and pulled aside the curtain.
The vineyard beyond was darkening. The rows of vines ran down the hill in neat lines, disappearing into blue evening shadow. The courtyard lights glowed beneath the olive trees. The floral arch was still standing, bright and ridiculous in the distance.
“My mother is downstairs,” Celeste said. “So is your brother. So are forty people who have been waiting for us to explain why the ceremony stopped.”
Mason shifted Wren more securely in his arms.
“I’ll tell them.”
Celeste turned around.
“You don’t have to tell them everything.”
“I should.”
“You don’t owe them your life.”
Mason looked at her.
She gave a tired, sad smile.
“You owe the truth to the people it changes.”
He understood who she meant.
Wren.
Nora.
Celeste herself.
Maybe even the version of Mason who had spent seven years believing he had made only ordinary mistakes.
They returned to the courtyard together.
The guests had not all gone into the dining room. Some stood beneath the string lights with glasses of champagne they were no longer drinking. Others had gathered near the stone villa, speaking in voices that lowered whenever Mason looked their way.
Celeste’s mother approached first.
Anne Rowan wore a pale blue silk dress and carried herself with the deliberate grace of a woman who had learned long ago how to survive public attention. Her eyes went from Mason to Wren, then to the file in Celeste’s hands.
“What happened?” she asked.
Celeste looked at her mother.
Mason saw the hesitation.
Anne had been the person Celeste called whenever a dress fitting went wrong, whenever work became too much, whenever she needed someone to say she was not being unreasonable. She was also Charles Rowan’s widow.
She had loved him.
Perhaps she had feared him too.
“A child was brought into the estate,” Celeste said. “She was locked in the preparation suite.”
Anne’s eyes widened.
“What?”
“Her name is Wren Bell.”
The color left Anne’s face.
Mason saw it.
So did Celeste.
“You know that name,” Celeste said.
Anne looked at Wren.
The girl was half-asleep against Mason’s shoulder.
Anne’s hand rose to her mouth.
“Oh God,” she whispered.
Celeste went still.
“What do you know?”
Anne looked at Mason.
Mason felt anger rise in him, sudden and sharp.
“What do you know?” he asked.
Anne’s eyes filled.
“I met Nora once.”
“When?”
“Years ago.”
“Where?”
“She came here.”
Celeste stared at her mother.
“When?”
Anne did not answer.
Celeste’s voice tightened.
“Mom.”
“After your father died.”
The courtyard seemed to quiet around them.
Mason looked at the dark villa behind her.
“You knew Nora had a child?”
Anne shook her head quickly.
“No. Not then. She came alone. She was frightened. She asked for Charles.”
“He was already dead,” Celeste said.
“I know.”
“What did she want?”
Anne looked down at the stone.
“She said she had sent him a letter. She said she needed to know whether he had read it.”
Mason felt his hands go cold.
“What did you tell her?”
Anne’s mouth trembled.
“I told her I didn’t know.”
“Did you help her?”
“I offered.”
“What did she say?”
Anne looked at Wren again.
“She said it was too late.”
Celeste’s eyes filled.
“Too late for what?”
“I didn’t know.”
“Did you ever try to find her after that?”
Anne closed her eyes.
“No.”
The answer sat between them.
Mason understood that sometimes failure was not one grand decision. Sometimes it was standing in front of someone who was afraid and deciding that their fear was too complicated for you to carry home.
Anne wiped beneath one eye.
“I thought she was asking for money,” she said.
Celeste flinched.
“Mom.”
“I know how that sounds.”
May you like
“It sounds like you saw a frightened woman and decided she wanted something from you.”
Anne’s face broke.
