Chapter 5: The Foundation Photos At Six
Richard's study door clicked open before I could put my phone away.
He had changed his tie. Dark navy, knotted tight. He looked at my face, then at my dress, like he was checking inventory.
"Fix your lipstick," he said. "And bring Lily down. The photographer will be here at six. I told him the hallway is the backdrop. That white wall photographs clean. No clutter."
I felt Daniel shift a half step behind me in the hall. Richard didn't look at him.
"The diamonds need to show," Richard went on. He stepped closer and touched the pendant of my necklace with two fingers, straightening it against the red fabric. His hand was cool. I held my breath until he let go. "They catch the light. That's the whole point. People donate when they see stability. Family."
He said it like a direction, not a conversation.
"Lily's tired," I said. My voice was low. "She was up early. She should stay upstairs."
"She's five, Margaret. She can smile for two minutes." He smoothed the front of his jacket. "We need the granddaughter shot. The foundation board specifically asked."
I nodded once. Short. Compliant. It was easier to let him think I'd agreed.
Daniel's eyes met mine for a second over Richard's shoulder. I tilted my head just enough toward the staircase. He understood.
Richard turned back toward the kitchen, already checking his watch. "Six o'clock sharp. Don't make us look disorganized."
When he disappeared around the corner, I let out the breath I'd been holding.
I went upstairs fast, my hand skimming the banister. Lily was sitting on the floor of the guest bedroom in her light blue outfit, legs crossed, lining up crayons by color. She looked up when I opened the door.
"Hi, honey," I whispered.
Daniel was right behind me. He didn't come all the way in. He stood in the doorway, his gray jacket catching the hallway light, his neck tattoos visible above his white collar.
"Can you stay with her?" I asked him, quiet.
He nodded. "I'll sit right here. Door closed. No one comes in unless you say."
I knelt down to Lily. "Sweetheart, I need you to have quiet play time here for a little while. Mr. Daniel will be right outside. You can draw me a picture for later, okay? Like a castle?"
She frowned a little. "Do I have to go downstairs for pictures?"
"No," I said. "Not right now. You stay here where it's cozy."
She relaxed and picked up a blue crayon. I kissed the top of her head. The door clicked softly as I pulled it to, Daniel settling his shoulder against the wall outside it, hands in his pockets. Protective without making a show of it.
Downstairs, the doorbell rang at 5:41.
Richard opened it before I could get to the foyer. A young man in jeans and a black button-down stood there with a camera bag and a collapsible reflector.
"You're early, great," Richard said, and his whole voice changed. Warmer. Lighter. He put out his hand. "Richard Ellis. We appreciate you coming to the house. The gala lighting at the ballroom is always so harsh. We thought natural light here would be better for the program."
The photographer smiled. "No problem at all. This hallway is perfect. That white wall is a great backdrop. And wow, that necklace is going to pop on camera."
Richard put his hand on my lower back as I came into the living room. His palm pressed firm through the red dress.
"This is my wife, Margaret," he said. "She's the reason the foundation runs."
I smiled the way I'd learned to at these events. Lips closed, eyes soft. I felt the weight of the teardrop diamonds against my skin. The pendant rested right at the hollow of my throat.
The photographer set up quickly. "If you could stand here against the white wall, Mrs. Ellis, and Mr. Ellis just slightly behind, hand on her shoulder, that'll be great. Nice and close."
We moved into position. The white wall was bright behind us, the sheer curtains down the hall glowing with afternoon light. The pendant light over the kitchen made a warm blur in the background.
"Beautiful. Hold that," the photographer said, lifting his camera. "Mrs. Ellis, chin just a fraction up so the necklace catches."
Richard's hand settled on my shoulder. His fingers tightened just enough to remind me he was there. I kept my gaze toward the camera. I tried to breathe naturally. I felt my eyes widen before I could stop them, that tight pull at the corners of my mouth when I tried too hard to hold still.
"Perfect, love that. Hold it... great," the photographer said, shutter clicking. "You two look wonderful together."
Richard smiled on cue, that practiced, even smile he'd used for thirty years of board photos. "My wife always makes us look good."
I held the pose. The diamonds felt heavy. The red dress felt too bright under the even light. I thought about Lily upstairs behind a closed door, Daniel's shoulder against the wall, the crayons lined up on the carpet.
"One more without the smile, a little more serious, foundation-strong," the photographer said. "Excellent."
He checked his screen, nodded. "I think we've got it. I'll send proofs tonight for the gala program."
Richard walked him out, chatting about exposure and the ballroom's new chandeliers, his charming host voice carrying all the way to the door. He shook the photographer's hand twice.
When the door closed, the warmth in Richard's face dropped.
"Where was she?" he asked. He didn't raise his voice. He didn't need to.
I stayed against the white wall.
"She was sleeping," I said.
"She was not sleeping." He looked toward the staircase. "You hid her. You made me look like I couldn't produce my own granddaughter for one photo. Do you know how that looks?"
I didn't answer. My hand went unconsciously to my necklace.
He straightened his cuffs. "Fine. We'll do it at the ballroom. The photographer will be there tonight for the reception. She will appear at the ballroom. In her blue dress, with us. Smiling. Understood?"
May you like
I nodded because I had to. My throat was dry.
He checked his watch again and started up the stairs to change, taking them two at a time. I stayed in the hallway, the white wall at my back, listening to his footsteps overhead and the faint sound of Lily's crayon scratching on paper above me.
