Chapter 11 - THE SATURDAY THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN HER WEDDING
At four o’clock Saturday afternoon, Clara was supposed to be taking photographs in Central Park.
Instead she sat in sweatpants in Naomi’s apartment eating Chinese takeout from the carton.
Her wedding dress hung in a garment bag against the wall.
Elaine sat beside her.
Neither woman turned on the television.
Charles had returned to Greenwich.
The board asked him to take a temporary leave of absence.
He agreed.
Trent had been terminated by Harlan Pierce that morning.
His employer referred the disputed transactions to outside counsel and relevant financial authorities for review.
Nobody promised Clara an arrest.
Nobody promised the money would return quickly.
Naomi explained that there could be civil claims, regulatory inquiries and possibly criminal consequences depending on evidence of intent.
Clara stopped asking what Trent “would get.”
Accountability was no longer a single dramatic punishment.
Brittany arrived after five.
She stood outside until Clara let her in.
“Did you know about the extra money?”
Clara asked before her sister removed her coat.
Brittany shook her head.
“No.”
“Did you receive anything from Trent?”
“No.”
“Anything he bought you?”
Brittany’s face changed.
“A bracelet.”
Clara almost laughed.
“How much?”
“I don’t know.”
“Find out.”
Brittany nodded.
She looked around the apartment.
“You were supposed to be married right now.”
Clara stared at her.
“Yes.”
Brittany started crying.
“I’m sorry.”
Clara’s first instinct was cruelty.
You should be.
She let the thought pass.
“I believe you’re sorry today.”
Brittany looked up.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I don’t know what you’ll do with it.”
Brittany sat opposite her.
“Trent won’t answer me.”
Clara shook her head.
“Stop centering him.”
Brittany flinched.
“I loved him.”
Clara looked at her sister for a long time.
“So did I.”
Brittany covered her face.
Clara did not comfort her.
Elaine finally spoke.
“I failed both of you.”
Clara turned.
Elaine continued.
“Not equally. Not in the same ways. But I trained this family to keep unpleasant things quiet so your father could keep functioning.”
Brittany looked at her.
“Mom.”
“I saw you leaving Trent’s building.”
Brittany froze.
“What?”
“I didn’t tell Clara.”
Brittany stared at her mother.
“Why?”
Elaine laughed bitterly.
“Because denial was apparently our family business before hotels.”
Clara almost smiled.
Then the hardest part came.
Clara admitted her own blind spot.
She had seen financial warning signs.
She had accepted Charles’s explanations because challenging him required energy she spent elsewhere.
She had worked seventy-hour weeks protecting hotel operations while treating corporate finance as her father’s territory.
“I liked being the competent daughter,” Clara said.
Brittany looked at her.
“You were.”
“Exactly.”
Clara put down the carton.
“Being good at my part made it easy to pretend I didn’t need to ask what was happening in his.”
Elaine said, “That isn’t the same as what he did.”
“No.”
Clara nodded.
“But I want to understand my own mistake without turning it into guilt for his.”
At 6:15, the Lenox House sent Clara photographs of the ballroom.
The florist had already dismantled half the ceremony installation.
Four hundred empty chairs sat beneath thousands of white roses.
Clara looked for ten seconds.
Then closed the image.
Brittany whispered, “Do you hate me?”
Clara answered honestly.
“Sometimes.”
Brittany cried.
“Do you still love me?”
Clara looked away.
“Sometimes.”
May you like
That answer hurt both of them.
It was also the first one that felt true.
