- His eyes followed the server until the man disappeared beneath the pavilion.
- I knew that silence.
- Over the previous several weeks, I’d learned exactly what it meant when Ethan stopped speaking and began turning the signet ring on his finger.
- Usually, it meant his mother had made another decision he wasn’t willing to question.
- And on my wedding day, she’d apparently decided my parents belonged beside the service entrance.
- The ceremony itself passed in a strange haze.
- I remember the heat beneath the flower arch, the officiant’s steady voice, and Ethan’s fingers tightening around mine when I hesitated before answering.
- I’d spent the previous night wondering whether I should go through with it.
- There were questions about the Sterling family I couldn’t ignore.
- Questions about money.
- Documents.
- The way Ethan allowed his mother to treat people she considered beneath her.
- Still, I had persuaded myself that marriage might give us the independence we’d never managed while planning the wedding.
- That was a mistake I would regret.
- When the ceremony ended and guests began drifting toward the pool and reception pavilion, I searched for my parents.
- I found my father beside an enormous ice sculpture carved into the Sterling Group crest.
- The midday sun had begun melting its edges, and water dripped steadily onto the marble beneath it.
- Arthur wore his only dark wool suit.
- It was too heavy for June.
- He’d scrubbed his hands before leaving Blue Island, but dark grease remained deep in the lines of his knuckles.
- A faded red shop rag protruded from one pocket.
- My mother approached him.
- “Arthur,” she whispered.
- “Put that away.”
- He tucked the rag out of sight.
- Then looked at me.
- “They have a lot of ice here,” he said.
- “Must have cost more than my first truck.”
- I smiled weakly.
- “Probably.”
- He studied the sculpture.
- Then glanced toward the guests gathered beneath the pavilion.
- “These people don’t see people, Clara.
- They see transaction entries.”
- “Ethan is different,” I said.
- Dad looked at me.
- I heard how unconvincing the words sounded.
- He rested one hand on my shoulder.
- “Just make sure you know what’s on the other side of the ledger.”
- Then he looked toward the driveway.
- “I left a broken lawnmower on the main bench at the shop.
- Should’ve finished it before coming.”
- “You have time.”
- “No,” he said quietly.
- “I don’t think we do.”
- I wanted to ask what he meant.
- Instead, I went looking for Olivia Sterling.
- She stood near the rose garden with a brass clipboard beneath one arm.
- Her cream-colored suit was perfectly tailored, and her French-manicured nails tapped against the metal edge while she corrected two florists arranging an arch.
- “Olivia.”
- She turned.
- Her public smile appeared immediately.
- “Clara, darling.
- The ceremony was lovely.
- We’re slightly behind schedule, though.”
- “I need to ask about my parents’ table.”
- Her nails stopped tapping.
- “The seating arrangements are finalized.”
- “They’ve been placed beside the kitchen entrance.”
- “We have an unusually complicated guest list.”
- “They are the parents of the bride.”
- Olivia sighed.
- Then leaned closer.
- “Your father smells of gasoline, Clara.
- And your mother’s dress is a very interesting shade of blue.”
- For a moment, I couldn’t speak.
- She continued as though discussing the weather.
- “There are more than three hundred investors, trustees, and business associates here.
- We can’t afford an unfortunate impression.”
- “An impression?”
- “People notice these things.”
- I stared.
- “My parents have worked their whole lives.”
- “I’m sure they have.”
- She raised the clipboard.
- “But this is a Sterling event.”
- Then she turned and called for the head caterer.
- The conversation was over.
- At least to her.
- I found Ethan in the library.
>>PART 3
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