Chapter 2 - THE WEDDING CHARLES COULD NOT AFFORD TO CANCEL
Charles closed the bridal-suite door.
That frightened Clara more than if he had shouted.
“Elaine,” he said, “take Brittany downstairs.”
Elaine did not move.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Charles gave his wife a look.
Elaine had spent thirty-four years obeying that look in public.
This time she folded her arms.
“Our daughter just found her fiancé with our other daughter. I’m staying.”
Brittany flinched.
Clara almost felt satisfaction.
It disappeared immediately.
“How long?”
Brittany stared at the carpet.
Clara repeated it.
“How long have you been sleeping with him?”
Trent answered.
“It wasn’t—”
Clara turned.
“I asked my sister.”
Brittany’s eyes filled.
“Five months.”
Elaine sat down.
Charles closed his eyes.
Clara felt nothing for several seconds.
Five months meant Christmas.
Her birthday.
The engagement photographs in Central Park.
The weekend Brittany helped her choose bridesmaid dresses.
“You stood beside me while I ordered your dress.”
Brittany began crying.
“I know.”
“You tasted wedding cake with me.”
“I know.”
“You told me Trent was the first man I’d dated who actually deserved me.”
“Clara—”
“Stop saying my name like you’re the one who gets comfort.”
Trent stood rigidly near the bed.
Charles suddenly said, “The ceremony stays on.”
Everyone turned.
Elaine stared at him.
“Charles.”
“We have three days.”
Clara laughed.
Her father continued as though she had not.
“You do not make a permanent decision while you’re in shock.”
“I’m not marrying him.”
“You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I know exactly what I’m saying.”
“Clara, four hundred people are coming.”
“Then they’ll have free Saturday night.”
“The governor’s office confirmed attendance.”
“Good for them.”
“Three members of the Whitmore Hospitality board are flying in from London.”
Clara froze slightly.
Not because the board mattered to her marriage.
Because Charles had just revealed what he was really thinking about.
Whitmore Hospitality was the family company Charles had built from two Connecticut roadside motels into a chain of thirty-one upscale hotels and resorts.
Clara had worked there since graduate school.
She was now executive vice president of operations.
Brittany had never wanted a corporate role.
She ran charitable events and lifestyle partnerships through the family foundation.
Trent worked for Harlan Pierce Wealth Management, the outside advisory firm handling part of the Whitmore family’s personal investments.
Charles lowered his voice.
“There are things happening with the company that you do not understand.”
Clara stared at him.
“Then explain them.”
“Not now.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re emotional.”
Elaine stood.
“Stop saying that to her.”
Charles looked at his wife.
“Elaine.”
“She found her sister in bed with her fiancé.”
“I understand that.”
“You’re behaving like she found the wrong flowers.”
Charles’s jaw tightened.
Clara lifted her phone again.
“What is Trent doing on the Bennett Trust?”
Charles said nothing.
Trent stepped forward.
“That screen doesn’t mean what you think.”
“Wonderful.”
Clara looked at him.
“Explain it.”
He hesitated.
Another answer.
Brittany whispered, “Trent.”
Clara turned toward her.
“You know too.”
Brittany shook her head.
Too quickly.
“I know there were financial problems.”
Charles snapped, “Enough.”
Clara stared at her father.
“Financial problems where?”
Charles walked toward the window.
Fifth Avenue traffic moved twenty floors below.
“Whitmore Hospitality had a difficult year.”
Clara almost laughed.
“I run operations. I know what kind of year we had.”
“You know operations.”
The insult was subtle.
Clara heard it anyway.
“What don’t I know?”
Charles finally looked at her.
“The company has a liquidity issue.”
“How large?”
Silence.
Clara felt the answer before she heard it.
“Charles.”
Elaine’s voice was suddenly afraid.
He looked at his wife.
“We need the wedding to happen because Trent is managing the financing that keeps the company out of default.”
Clara looked at Trent.
Then at Brittany.
Then back at her father.
May you like
The affair was five months old.
The financial problem, Clara realized, might be older.
