Chapter 4

“Cancel it,” I said.

Brooke blinked. “Excuse me?”

“The forty-person dinner. Cancel it.”

“You can’t cancel it. Invitations went out weeks ago.”

“Without my knowledge.”

“People booked hotel rooms, Claire. Vendors have deposits. Do you expect us to call everyone the night before and say you changed your mind?”

“I didn’t change my mind. No one asked what it was.”

I looked at Mark.

“Who signed the contracts?”

His hesitation answered before he did.

“I signed some of them.”

The kitchen seemed to shrink around me.

“You authorized an event for forty people at my house?”

“Brooke handled the planning. I helped with the paperwork.”

“And when were you planning to tell me?”

“When the time was right.”

“After everyone arrived?”

“They haven’t arrived yet.”

He said it as if that were the problem—the timing of the confession, not what he had done.

“I thought once you saw how much this meant to Mom, you’d understand,” he added.

“Show me every contract.”

Brooke crossed her arms. “I handled everything. You don’t need to worry about it.”

“You planned an event on my property. I need to know what you’re bringing onto it.”

After a long look at Mark, Brooke opened a cabinet beneath the kitchen desk and removed a thick white binder.

Gold letters covered the front.

HARPER FAMILY LAKE HOUSE

EVELYN’S 70TH BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION

My mother’s money had bought the house.

Somehow, Mark’s family had put their name on it.

I opened the binder.

Forty event chairs. Six banquet tables. A mobile bar. Dock decorations. A photographer. Catered main dishes.

And two jet skis.

“You rented watercraft?”

“Daniel thought people would enjoy them,” Brooke said.

“Who checked the insurance?”

Silence.

“Who is responsible if someone drinks and gets on one of those?”

Mark exhaled. “Nothing is going to happen.”

“That isn’t a plan.”

I turned another page. The caterer was only providing the main dishes. I had still been assigned the sides, breakfasts, groceries, cake, setup, and cleanup.

Then I saw a sheet protected by a clear plastic sleeve.

HARPER FAMILY LAKE HOUSE — ANNUAL SCHEDULE

Different colors covered almost every month.

Brooke’s family had taken two weeks in July.

Daniel had claimed a weekend for his friends.

Evelyn had an autumn trip marked down, followed by Thanksgiving and Christmas.

The next spring, the house had been reserved for Brooke’s daughter’s graduation trip.

“What is this?”

Brooke leaned over as if I had asked about an ordinary calendar.

“We thought a shared schedule would make things easier.”

“Shared by whom?”

“The family.”

“Whose family?”

She frowned. “Mark’s family. Your family.”

I turned to my husband. “Have you seen this?”

“Yes, but nothing was final.”

“There are names on every weekend.”

“We were going to discuss it with you.”

“You told people they could come. That isn’t a discussion.”

“The house sits empty most of the year,” Mark said. “Why shouldn’t the family enjoy it?”

“Because it isn’t theirs.”

“I’m trying to give everyone a chance to create memories here. Isn’t that why your mother left you the money?”

The mention of my mother made something inside me go still.

“My mother left that money to me. She did not leave your family a vacation schedule.”

A loud electronic beeping cut through the kitchen.

Everyone turned toward the windows.

A white event truck reversed into the driveway. Behind it came another vehicle towing two jet skis.

Workers opened the first truck and began pulling out stacks of folding chairs. Another man rolled bar equipment toward the lawn.

Brooke’s shoulders relaxed.

“See? It’s already happening. We can’t cancel now.”

Mark lowered his voice. “Let’s get through the weekend. We’ll talk about the calendar afterward.”

That was always his solution.

Let his family take what they wanted now. Let me object when it was too late to get it back.

I walked outside.

A driver holding a tablet met me near the truck.

“Harper family event?” he asked. “Who can confirm where you want everything?”

“I’m the property owner.”

Behind me, Mark said my name like a warning.

“Stop unloading,” I said.

The driver looked from me to Mark.

“Then which one of you authorized the event?”