Three years of Margaret saying things like, “It must be so fulfilling to make rooms pretty for people,” when she knew perfectly well my firm designed interiors and architectural concepts for luxury developments from Tribeca to Miami. Three years of Ethan squeezing my knee whenever I almost answered back, his private signal for not now, which really meant not ever. Three years of Brandon floating through life like a helium balloon tied to somebody else’s wallet.Family
That Sunday, I wore a navy silk dress and the smile I used for difficult clients. Ethan’s younger brother had been vibrating with smug excitement all through dinner, barely touching his food. His fiancée, Chloe, wasn’t there. “Too many fittings,” Margaret had explained, which somehow sounded like a criticism of the poor girl’s character.We were finishing dessert when Brandon finally burst.
“So the final numbers are in,” he announced, leaning back in his chair with the satisfaction of a man who had personally discovered fire. “The Plaza ballroom, the floral package, the custom dance floor, the band upgrade, the six-night honeymoon suite in Bora Bora, all in—”
He paused for effect and grinned.
“—we’re at one point nine million.”
Harold lowered the Wall Street Journal section he’d somehow managed to keep folded beside his plate. Even Ethan let out a low whistle.Patio, Lawn & Garden
