Chapter 4
Mom left without answering. The door clicked shut behind her, and the house seemed to hold the shape of her anger for several seconds.
Ethan didn’t tell me what to do next. He waited while I closed the laptop, then asked if I wanted to go back to the venue in the morning.
“I want to see what happened,” I said.
“You know what happened.”
“I want to see it without her telling me what it meant.”
The venue manager met us in a small office off the ballroom. He looked tired, though the party was over and the room had been reset for another event. A faint sweetness from the dessert table lingered beneath the smell of floor polish.
“I preserved the recording from that evening,” he said. “As Mr. Cole requested.”
“Thank you,” I said. “Can we see it?”
He glanced at Ethan, then at me. “I can show you the section involving your family. I can’t release footage of other guests without the appropriate process.”
“I’m not asking you to release it,” I said. “I want to see the part you preserved.”
He turned on the monitor.
The image was grainy and washed in ballroom light. I watched myself cross the edge of the frame toward Chloe, then watched Mom reach into my purse while I was helping with photos. The clip moved ahead. Mom raised my keys. Chloe stepped toward her. Blake smiled.
Then I saw myself reach for the keys.
Mom pulled away. My heel skidded, and my hand shot out to catch the banquet table. A glass tipped. Around us, people turned.
The footage had no sound, but Blake’s mouth moved in a shape I remembered too well. The laugh came back anyway, sharp and casual, as if my stumble had been part of the entertainment.
I leaned closer to the screen.
“Can you pause it there?”
The manager froze the image. Mom’s arm was still raised. My body tilted toward the table. Blake’s face was turned toward me.
Ethan’s hand rested against the back of my chair. He didn’t touch me.
“That’s enough,” I said.
The manager rewound the clip and let it play once more. I watched the keys pass from my mother’s hand into mine. The moment was small on-screen, almost ordinary. It was the way everyone around us had treated it that made my stomach tighten.
“Please retain the original,” I said. “Don’t overwrite it.”
“We’ll keep it as requested.”
“Could you say that once more?”
The manager looked at me, then understood. I opened the recorder on my phone and held it between us.
“We’re retaining the original ballroom footage from the engagement party, including the segment you just viewed,” he said. “It won’t be deleted or overwritten.”
I stopped the recording and saved it beside the lender notice and the voicemail from Mom. My phone was becoming a drawer for things I used to trust my family to remember honestly.
The office door opened. Chloe stood there, one hand on the knob, her face pale and bare of makeup.
“I need to show you something,” she said.
The manager stepped into the hallway to give us privacy. Chloe came in but didn’t sit. She had her phone clenched in both hands.
“Blake sent these last night,” she said. “I should’ve shown you before.”
“You showed me the message about closing.”
“I know. I should’ve shown you all of them.”
She opened a thread and held out the screen. Blake’s messages were brief, impatient, and confident. One said the cottage was already secured. Another said the lender had everything it needed and that the loan was just a bridge until his next contract came through.
My eyes stopped on the word secured.
“He wrote that before Monday?”
“Yes.”
“Does he mean he thinks the loan is approved?”
“I don’t know.” Chloe’s thumb hovered over the screen. “He kept saying it was routine. Mom said the same thing.”
“Did either of them say what would happen if I didn’t agree?”
Chloe swallowed. “No. They said there was nothing to agree to.”
The certainty in her voice wavered. She looked down at the messages, then at me.
“I believed them because I wanted to,” she said. “And because I wanted the wedding paid for.”
I had expected an excuse. Somehow, the admission hurt more. It left her holding the part that was hers.
“You knew it was our cottage.”
“Yes.” Her eyes shone, but she didn’t look away. “I didn’t think they’d use your name without asking.”
“That isn’t the same as asking me.”
“I know.”
My phone buzzed on the desk. A message from Mom had appeared in the family group chat. I didn’t open it immediately, but the first lines showed on the screen.
Ava has invented a loan threat because she’s angry about the wedding gift. Please don’t let her turn Chloe’s engagement into another fight.
Chloe read it over my shoulder. Her face crumpled for a breath before she pressed her lips together.
“She’s telling everyone I made it up,” I said.
“I’ll answer her.”
“You don’t have to defend me because I’m here.”
“I’m not.” Chloe’s voice shook, but she kept the phone in her hand. “I’m tired of watching her decide what happened before anyone else can speak.”
Her own phone lit up. She glanced down, and the color drained from her face.
“What is it?”
She didn’t answer right away. Her thumb moved, opening the new message. Then she turned the screen toward me.
Blake’s text read: Lorraine says Ava will sign Monday.
The file-room door stood open behind us. On the phone, Blake’s words looked calm, almost conversational.
Chloe’s fingers tightened around the edges.
May you like
“I’m not hiding this,” she said. “Not from you.”
For the first time since the party, I believed she meant it.
