If Sterling was hiding documents from Atlantic National Bank now, it meant his firm’s cash reserves were not as secure as he claimed.
The master bedroom was cold, the draft from the bay rattling the latch on the terrace doors.
I sat on the edge of the mattress and untied the thin red silk cord bracelet from my left wrist, placing it carefully on the glass-topped nightstand.
The silk was slightly frayed at the edges, a tiny red line against the polished white wood.
The door opened and Sterling walked in, untying his silk tie and tossing it onto the armchair.
“Eleanor told me about the stylist,” he said, his back to me as he unbuttoned his shirt.
“I told her I would think about it, Sterling.”
“There is nothing to think about,” he said, turning to look at me. “We need to think about our standing in Newport, Genevieve, and simple choices do not fit the image anymore.”
He sat on his side of the bed, his movements stiff and deliberate.
“I am the same person you married,” I said, my voice steady.
“The firm is in a different place now,” he said, staring at the floor.
“The merger changes the expectations,” he added, his voice dropping into a flat, professional tone. “Our lifestyle requires a higher social caliber of partner.”
“A higher caliber?” I asked, the words sitting quietly between us.
“You know what I mean,” he said, his voice cold and polite as he pulled the blanket up. “We cannot afford to look ordinary.”
He turned his back to me, the movement final and sharp, leaving the room silent except for the rain against the glass.
I lay back and stared at the thin red cord resting on the nightstand, the silence of the room heavier than it had ever been before.
The kitchen smelled of cold toast and lavender furniture polish when Hazel and I sat down at eight o’clock. Hazel pressed her palm into a pool of blue finger-paint, leaving a bright smear across the drawing paper I had taped to the pine table.
Eleanor entered with her chin high, her spine perfectly rigid as she surveyed the room. She did not look at the picture of the blue bird Hazel was trying to make, but her eyes locked onto the stray smudge on the edge of the wood.
“She should be practicing her vocabulary,” Eleanor said, her voice dry and clipped. “The French tutor starts on Tuesday, Genevieve, and we cannot have her falling behind the other children in the parish.”
“She is five, Eleanor,” I said, keeping my tone soft and steady. “She has plenty of time for French.”
Eleanor took a slow step forward, her fingers automatically rising to adjust her heavy pearl necklace. “The Montgomery name requires a certain standard of preparation, even at her age. Finger-painting is for public daycares.”
Hazel looked up, her blue-stained thumb hovering over the paper, her eyes moving between the two of us.
“Go wash your hands in the powder room, sweetie,” I told her, keeping my voice calm as I kissed her forehead.
Once the door clicked shut behind her, Eleanor turned her gaze directly to my simple grey wool dress.
“Sterling is meeting with international developers next month,” Eleanor said, her chin tilting upward. “You will need to present yourself with more elegance than this if you expect to stand beside him at the dinner.”
“I will find something suitable,” I replied, keeping my hands resting flat on the cool granite counter.
“A proper stylist would help,” Eleanor said, turning toward the hallway with a short, final nod. “I will send you the number for Madame Laurent.”
By eleven, the cold coastal rain had started again, tapping gently against the windshield as I parked in the downtown lot. Sterling had left his leather-bound planner on the dresser, and with his schedule packed before the December fifteenth merger announcement, I knew he would need it.
The elevator took me to the top floor of the Montgomery Capital building, where the air smelled of expensive carpet cleaner and dry heat.
As the double glass doors slid open, I saw Victoria Hayes standing outside Sterling’s private office. She wore a cream-colored designer suit that looked as though it had never touched a rainy street, and she was slowly brushing a speck of non-existent lint from her sleeve.
“He is particularly busy today, Genevieve,” Victoria said, her slow drawl stretching the vowels until they sounded like an evaluation.
“I only came to drop off his planner,” I said, holding the black leather book in front of me.
Sterling stepped out of his office behind her, checking his gold wristwatch with a quick, nervous jerk of his wrist. His eyes shifted from Victoria to me, his brow furrowing as he took the planner from my hand.
