I walked to the bedside table and set the vase down on the rolling metal tray. A single white petal drifted down, landing on a plastic cup of ginger ale.
“The bank called me this morning, Gavin,” I said. My voice was level. I kept my hands at my sides. “There is a pending transfer of three hundred fifty thousand dollars from our capital reserve account. It requires two signatures.”
Gavin smiled, a tiny, reassuring movement of his lips that did not reach his eyes.
“The Oakhaven estate requires a substantial earnest deposit, Audrey,” he said. “The property is held under the First Star Trust. It is a standard asset-protection entity to keep the restaurant’s operational risks separate from our residential equity.”
I stared at him. The words First Star seemed to hang in the sterile air between us.
“You took the money from the restaurant reserves,” I said.
Brooke reached out and touched Gavin’s forearm, her fingers small against his blue linen sleeve.
“Our son gets his name, you keep paying for the house,” she said.
Helen stepped closer to the bed, her forced smile tightening until her cheeks looked pinched.
“Brooke has had a very long forty-eight hours, Audrey,” Helen said, her hand brushing her sleeve again. “The baby is beautiful. Six pounds and four ounces. We must think of the family’s position in Oak Ridge. The estate is a perfect place for him to grow up.”
“And my husband?” I asked.
Gavin adjusted his watch strap.
“We are going to handle this like professionals, Audrey,” he said. “There is no need for a public display. The business will continue to operate exactly as it always has.”
I looked at my father. He had not moved. His gaze remained locked on the gray linoleum.
“Dad,” I said.
Richard rubbed his temples again, his shoulders rising and falling in a slow, heavy breath.
