You shouldn't have.”
“She said you were causing a scene.”
“And you believed her.”
“I called the store this morning.”
Evelyn looked at him.
Andrew swallowed.
“Security confirmed Bradley put his hands on you.
Mom, I'm sorry.”
Evelyn's anger softened, but only slightly.
“Why is your name on the Whitmore building proposal?”
Andrew froze.
“You know about that?”
“Yes.”
He sat down.
“Lauren's father offered me a consulting position.
He told me the building was being sold by an investment group and that joining the project could help me build something of my own.”
“Did you know our family had an interest in it?”
“No.”
His answer came immediately.
Evelyn believed him.
Andrew rubbed his forehead.
“Dad always said you two owned some properties, but I thought most had been sold after he died.”
“That was intentional.”
Andrew looked confused.
“Why?”
“Your father wanted you to build your own life instead of waiting for ours.”
Andrew was quiet.
Then the doorbell rang.
Lauren arrived with her parents.
Charles Whitmore entered first, confident and polished, followed by his wife, Margaret.
Lauren came last.
When she saw Evelyn wearing the same faded brown coat as the previous afternoon, her expression tightened.
“You're wearing that?”
Evelyn smiled.
“I was cold.”
Lauren gave Andrew an embarrassed glance.
Charles laughed.
“Evelyn, I keep telling my wife some people become emotionally attached to old things.”
“Sometimes old things are more valuable than they appear.”
Charles didn't notice the meaning.
Dinner began pleasantly.
Charles talked about redevelopment.
Luxury apartments.
Private clubs.
Premium retail space.
He spoke with the confidence of a man who believed the deal was already finished.
“The downtown market is changing,” he said.
“Sentimentality kills profit.”
Evelyn cut her chicken.
“And the employees?”
Charles shrugged.
“Businesses change.”
“Hundreds of people work in that building.”
“People find other jobs.”
Andrew frowned.
“You told me the existing retail operations would remain.”
Charles barely looked at him.
“Plans evolve.”
Lauren quickly interrupted.
“Daddy knows what he's doing.”
Evelyn watched Andrew's face.
For the first time, doubt appeared.
Then she asked Lauren, “How did the charity event go yesterday?”
Lauren's fork stopped.
“Fine.”
“Bradley helped?”
Andrew looked up.
“Bradley?”
Lauren recovered quickly.
“The floor manager.”
“How do you know him?”
Andrew asked.
“Everyone knows Bradley.”
Evelyn reached beneath her napkin.
She placed one photograph on the table.
Lauren kissing Bradley.
Nobody spoke.
Andrew stared at it.
Then Evelyn placed down another.
And another.
Lauren's face turned white.
“Andrew—”
He stood.
“How long?”
“It's not what you think.”
“A photograph of you kissing another man seems fairly straightforward.”
Charles slammed his palm against the table.
“What is this nonsense?”
Evelyn turned toward him.
“Sit down, Charles.”
Something in her voice made him obey.
Lauren's eyes filled with tears.
