“You’re joking.”
“No.”
“For how long?”
“Three years.”
She covered her mouth.
Then, incredibly, she laughed.
Not cruelly.
In shock.
“Oh my God.”
“What?”
“I listened to Dad make jokes about your dating life for three Christmases.”
I looked at her.
“Yes.”
“You could have shut him up anytime.”
I slid the ring onto my finger.
“I shouldn’t have needed a husband to make the jokes wrong.”
Maren stopped smiling.
Then nodded.
“You’re right.”
That was probably the first important thing my sister and I said to each other that night.
A knock came at the door.
Before anyone answered, Aunt Rosalind Langford entered carrying a champagne flute.
She took one look at me.
Then at my ring.
“Well.”
Maren pointed.
“You knew?”
Rosalind drank her champagne.
“I signed the courthouse certificate.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes.”
“Three years?”
“Yes.”
“And you never told me?”
“Evelyn asked me not to.”
Maren looked betrayed.
Rosalind shrugged.
“I keep secrets better than this family keeps opinions.”
I almost laughed.
Then Rosalind looked at me.
“Julian is here.”
My pulse changed.
“Where?”
“East lobby.”
“He apparently knows Judge Everett Shaw, who was trying to leave before Victor cornered him.”
Of course.
Maren looked at me.
“What are you going to do?”
For three years, somewhere in the angrier part of my imagination, I had rehearsed this moment.
Julian arriving.
Victor recognizing him.
Me taking Julian’s hand.
Victor realizing his lonely, unsuccessful daughter had secretly built a life he could respect according to his own ridiculous standards.
I had imagined the satisfaction.
Now it felt cheap.
Julian was not evidence.
He was not a trophy.
He was my husband.
“I’m going home with him.”
Maren blinked.
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
“What about Dad?”
“He’s had enough of my night.”
Julian was standing near the east lobby doors.
Charcoal suit.
No tie.
He must have removed it in the car.
He was speaking with Judge Everett Shaw when he saw me.
His entire expression changed.
That still happened after four years together.
He crossed the lobby immediately.
“What happened?”
“I’m okay.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
I almost smiled.
“Dad happened.”
Julian looked past me toward the ballroom.
Then noticed my ring.
Not on the chain.
On my finger.
He looked at me.
“That’s new.”
“It shouldn’t be.”
“No.”
His thumb touched the band.
“It shouldn’t.”
He did not ask whether I wanted him to confront anyone.
That was one reason I loved him.
Maren approached carefully.
“Hi.”
I turned.
“Julian, this is Maren.”
“The bride.”
Julian smiled.
“Congratulations.”
Maren looked embarrassed.
“Thank you.”
“And apparently you’re my brother-in-law.”
“Apparently.”
Then Victor appeared.
He was halfway through the ballroom doors when he saw Julian.
His posture changed immediately.
Professional mode.
Respectful mode.
The version of Victor reserved for people he considered important.
“Julian Mercer.”
Julian nodded.
“Victor.”
“What brings you to Rosemere?”
Julian looked at me.
He let me answer.
“He came for me.”
Victor smiled as if he had found a way to restore control.
“Evelyn, please tell me you didn’t summon legal counsel because you fell into a fountain.”
