Chapter 2

Owen did not give me the ruler. He closed his hand around it.

"Mara is upset," he told the room. "Let's not turn a celebration into a private argument."

His voice came through the microphone. My mother's initials were scratched near the ruler's handle. Owen's thumb covered them.

"You made it public when you brought it here," I said.

Sienna still held the award. She no longer looked pleased to be holding it. Heat climbed the back of my neck and did not leave.

"Did he tell you I approved the transition announcement?" I asked.

Her eyes moved to Owen. "He said you were ready to step back. He said the board had discussed it," she said.

"We did discuss it," Owen said.

"You used my firm credentials to send it as approved."

"It was a draft."

"It said approved copy, from an account you had no permission to use."

His smile disappeared. "I knew you'd agree once you'd time to think."

He had made that decision for me before. He had always called it giving me time. I held out my hand again.

"The ruler."

"Are you really going to embarrass Sienna over an old tool?"

"I'm not embarrassing Sienna." I kept looking at him. "I'm asking you to stop giving away what's not yours."

Mrs. Delgado came closer to the stage. "That ruler was on Mara's desk last week. I saw it when I signed the east-wing forms," she said.

Owen turned to her with the patient look he saved for difficult clients.

"This is an internal matter."

"Then stop making it a public gift," she said.

No one clapped. A few people lowered their phones. Owen set the ruler on the podium.

"Fine. Take it. But I won't let you damage the firm because you feel overlooked," he said.

I picked it up and put it in my clutch.

"Sienna has contributed to Bell Street," I told the room. "But she didn't create the design this award recognizes. And I've not approved any change to my role at Cole & Hart."

Sienna lowered the award. She did not return it, but she stopped holding it like a prize. Owen reached for the microphone.

I moved it away. "You're not the firm," I said. "You're one person in it."

Helen Park, the chair of the awards committee, came up the steps.

"Mara, is the inscription wrong?"

Owen answered first. "There has been a misunderstanding about how our studio divides credit."

Helen looked at me instead. I could have read the email aloud. I could have given Owen the scene he wanted, then watched him call it emotional.

"The inscription needs to be reviewed. So does the announcement using my name," I said.

Owen caught my elbow as I stepped down. His fingers were light. They always were when someone could see.

"Think about what you're doing," he murmured.

I looked at his hand until he let go.

"I'm."

At the theater doors, the board secretary called. "Owen just requested an emergency vote. He wants you removed from Bell Street before the morning press release," she said.