Chapter 6
The next afternoon, Margaret still met me at the townhouse door and called me darling.
Just as she had for fifteen years.
Tea was already waiting.
But I saw the ivory box first.
Gold edging.
The Vale crest.
My handwriting on the label.
[EVELYN / ADRIAN - JUNE 14]
I stopped.
Margaret noticed.
She offered no explanation.
Instead, she poured tea.
"You look exhausted."
I remained standing.
She sighed.
"Evelyn, I hate watching you make this uglier than it needs to be."
As if I were the one causing the humiliation.
Margaret told me that fifteen years ago, Adrian had needed someone grounded.
Someone to pull him away from parties, clubs, and Richard's disappointment.
"You were very good for him."
Past tense.
She lifted her cup.
"But his life is different now. Funds. Museum boards. Family obligations. Charlotte grew up understanding those rooms."
My fingers curled.
"So I suited him when he had nothing."
Margaret frowned.
"Must you make everything sound ugly?"
The door opened.
Charlotte entered with a woman carrying floral sample books.
She saw me.
What surprised her was my left hand.
"You're still wearing it?"
I looked at the ring.
"Adrian hasn't asked for it back."
Charlotte smiled slightly.
"I don't think he thought he'd have to."
She crossed to the cabinet and picked up the ivory box.
My wedding box.
"This was yours?"
She opened it.
Fabric samples. Flowers. The south-lawn layout Margaret and I had chosen together.
"Put that down."
"I'm only looking."
Charlotte turned to the flower page.
"Peonies?"
She shook her head.
"Too traditional."
I stepped forward.
Margaret immediately stood.
"Evelyn, don't make a scene in this house."
I stopped.
Charlotte was flipping through the wedding I never had.
I was the one being warned about manners.
She turned another page.
The south lawn.
In my handwriting:
[ceremony before sunset]
Charlotte studied it.
"The lawn is beautiful."
I left.
Margaret called after me.
I did not turn around.
Adrian called before I reached the sidewalk.
"You made my mother cry."
I stopped.
"Charlotte was going through our wedding plans."
"It was a folder, Evelyn."
That was all.
Then his voice hardened.
"Stop going after my parents. Finish the Whitmore revision tomorrow."
The call ended.
I was about to leave when I realized the townhouse door had not fully closed.
Charlotte's voice carried outside.
"June fourteenth definitely won't work for us."
Then Margaret answered.
"Of course not. We'll choose another date."