Chapter 2
I had built entire legitimate companies while keeping other parts of my life hidden behind layers of paperwork, loyal employees, and carefully chosen words.
Pretending to be someone’s boyfriend should have been easy.
The problem was that Nora kept making me forget we were pretending.
She stole roasted potatoes from my plate without asking.
I poured water into her glass when it was empty.
She knew I hated olives because I had mentioned it once at the café and removed them from a shared appetizer before I could.
When her aunt Cynthia asked how we met, Nora started the practiced version.
“A coffee shop.”
“At this little place inside the Harbor Hotel,” I added.
“And who approached whom?” Cynthia asked.
Nora froze.
I looked at her.
“She did.”
Her eyes widened.
The family reacted immediately.
“Nora?” Claire said.
“I was feeling confident.”
I leaned back.
“She offered me money.”
Nora kicked me beneath the table.
Hard.
I nearly laughed.
“For charity,” I finished.
Everyone stared.
Nora recovered.
“There was a fundraiser flyer on his table.”
“Very persuasive fundraiser,” I said.
Eleanor covered a smile with her napkin.
I suspected she knew more than Nora thought.
Halfway through lunch, conversation moved toward business.
It always did with successful families.
Diane talked about an upcoming wedding contract.
Claire described an event venue renovation.
Someone asked about Cole Development acquiring property near King Street.
I answered without detail.
Then Miles looked at me.
“You’re involved with Harbor East, aren’t you?”
I glanced at him.
“Some of it.”
“My firm reviewed financing on one of those developments.”
“What firm?”
“Harper & Lane.”
I knew it.
Of course I did.
They handled commercial finance across South Carolina and Georgia.
More importantly, my company had received several calls from them recently.
Calls I had intentionally avoided.
“I know the name,” I said.
Miles studied me.
Not suspiciously.
Thoughtfully.
“That project could change the entire district.”
“Or ruin it,” Eleanor said.
Everyone looked at her.
She calmly buttered her bread.
“Development is only good when people remember a city belongs to people before it belongs to investors.”
A silence followed.
Diane sighed.
“Mother.”
“What?”
“We’re celebrating your birthday.”
“That doesn’t mean I’ve stopped having opinions.”
I smiled.
Eleanor saw me.
“You disagree?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Though I think responsible development can preserve more than it destroys.”
Her eyes sharpened.
“Do you?”
“Yes.”
“Then perhaps you and I should talk.”
Something about the way she said it made me wonder whether we were still discussing buildings.
Dessert arrived.
Lemon cake.
Apparently Nora had made it.
I took one bite and looked at her.
“What?”
I took another.
“You made this?”
She shifted uncomfortably.
“Yes.”
“You didn’t tell me you were actually good.”
Her mouth fell open.
“I told you I went to pastry school.”
“That means you studied baking. It doesn’t mean you’re good.”
Claire laughed loudly.
Nora glared at me.
Then I took a third bite.
“This is ridiculous.”
Her expression softened.
“You like it?”
“No.”
She stared.
“I’m considering theft.”
That smile appeared again.
Not the nervous one.
The real one.
It transformed her face.
For a moment, I forgot everyone else existed.
Then I looked up.
Miles was watching us.
Not angrily.
Sadly.
He looked away before Nora noticed.
After the plates were cleared, Eleanor tapped her glass.
Everyone quieted.
“I am seventy-five years old today,” she announced. “Which is old enough that people forgive almost anything I say because they assume I’ve earned the right.”
Laughter moved around the table.
“So I intend to take advantage of that.”
Nora inhaled sharply.
She knew what was coming.
Eleanor continued.
“I have received beautiful gifts today. But what I would most like from my family is honesty.”
Diane glanced toward Nora.
So did Claire.
Nora went pale.
Under the table, I reached for her hand.
This time, nobody was watching.
At least, I thought nobody was.
Nora looked at me.
I gave the smallest nod.
She stood.
“Actually,” she said, “I have something I need to tell everyone.”
The room became quiet.
Diane’s expression tightened.
“Nora, if this is about Miles—”
“It isn’t.”
Miles looked down at his folded hands.
Nora swallowed.
“It’s about me.”
Those four words changed something in the room.
Not because they were dramatic.
Because Nora sounded like saying them had taken years.
“I love Bennett Events,” she began.
Her mother relaxed slightly.
“I love what our family built. I love the clients. I love being part of something Grandma started and Mom turned into something incredible.”
Diane’s face softened.
Then Nora continued.
“But I don’t want to run it.”
Silence.
A fork touched a plate somewhere near the end of the table.
Diane stared at her.
“What?”
“I’ve been trying to tell you.”
“When?”
“Every time we talked about the future.”
“You never said this.”
“I tried.”
“No, Nora. You said you were tired. You said work had been stressful.”
“Because every time I got close to saying the rest, you told me how much the company needed me.”
Diane looked genuinely confused.
Not angry.
Hurt.
“What are you saying?”
Nora drew in a breath.
“I want to open a bakery.”
Claire’s eyes widened.
Several relatives murmured.
Eleanor merely smiled.
Diane slowly leaned back.
“A bakery.”
“Yes.”
“You want to leave a company with your name on the door to make cakes?”
The words were not cruel.
That almost made them worse.
Nora flinched anyway.
I felt her fingers tighten around mine.
She didn’t sit down.
“I don’t just want to make cakes.”
“Nora—”
“I finished pastry school three months ago.”
Now Diane truly looked shocked.
“Three months?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve been attending school without telling me?”
“At night.”
“For how long?”
“Eighteen months.”
Diane looked at Claire.
Claire raised both hands.
“I didn’t know.”
Then at Eleanor.
“You knew.”
Eleanor didn’t deny it.
“Mother.”
“She asked me not to tell you.”
“So you helped her hide this?”
“I gave her somewhere to practice.”
Nora stepped in.
“Don’t blame Grandma.”
“I’m not blaming anyone.”
Diane’s voice stayed controlled.
That control seemed fragile.
“I’m trying to understand why my daughter apparently believes she has to construct a secret life to tell me what she wants.”
Nobody spoke.
Including me.
That question hit somewhere uncomfortably close.
Nora’s voice softened.
“Because I knew you’d hear me leaving the company as me leaving you.”
Diane’s face changed.
Pain flashed across it.
“And is that what you’re doing?”
“No.”
“Then why didn’t you trust me enough to tell me?”
Nora’s eyes filled, though she refused to look away.
“Because I didn’t trust myself enough to disappoint you.”
The entire table went silent.
Diane looked down.
For the first time since I met her, she had nothing to say.
Eleanor reached across and touched her daughter’s wrist.
“Let her finish.”
Nora took a breath.
“I found a storefront.”
My attention sharpened.
“Where?” Claire asked.
“East Bay. Near the old market district.”
I turned toward her.
“What address?”
She looked at me.
“Twenty-eight Wentworth.”
Everything inside me stopped.
Not visibly.
Years of practice prevented that.
But internally, the world shifted.
Twenty-eight Wentworth.
I knew the building.
More than that.
I owned the building.
Technically, Cole Development did.
We had purchased the entire row six months earlier through a subsidiary.
The property was supposed to become part of a boutique hotel development.
I hadn’t yet approved the final plans.
Nora kept talking.
“The landlord is reviewing my application. I’m waiting to hear whether I qualify for the lease.”
I said nothing.
Diane began asking questions.
Not supportive ones.
Not hostile ones either.
Practical questions.
Rent.
Equipment.
Financing.
Staff.
Insurance.
Margins.
Nora answered every one.
With numbers.
Research.
Plans.
The more she spoke, the more Diane’s expression changed.
It wasn’t approval yet.
But she was listening.
Really listening.
Then Miles spoke.
“How much capital are you raising?”
Nora glanced at him.
“About eighty thousand.”
“That includes six months of operating expenses?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Diane looked at him.
“Miles.”
“What?”
“You’re helping her?”
“I asked a question.”
“You’re supposed to tell her this is risky.”
Miles smiled faintly.
“It is risky.”
Nora folded her arms.
“Thank you.”
“So is running an event company.”
Diane gave him a look.
Miles shrugged.
“Sorry.”
That was when I realized something.
Miles wasn’t here because he expected Nora to choose him.
He was here because he had been invited into this family so many times that they already considered him part of it.
And perhaps he had allowed them to believe more because walking away would mean losing all of them, not only Nora.
That made him less of a rival.
And somehow more important.
May you like
After lunch, guests drifted into the garden.
Nora disappeared upstairs with Claire.
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