Chapter 17 - The Velvet Trap
|
Claire wore a dark emerald gown she had bought specifically for the occasion. It was elegant but not ostentatious, a dress designed for observing rather than hosting.
She arrived at the hotel ballroom at nine o'clock, fashionably late—a luxury she had never afforded herself when she was married to Daniel.
The room was filled with familiar faces. The old guard of the Mercer empire, the politicians, the investors.
She felt a brief, familiar spike of anxiety as she surrendered her coat to the attendant. The urge to check the floral arrangements or confirm the dinner seating chart flared up like phantom limb pain.
She took a deep breath and ordered a glass of sparkling water from a passing waiter.
"Claire."
She turned.
Rebecca stood there, wearing a stunning silver dress, looking sharper and more relaxed than she had in years.
"You came," Rebecca smiled, a genuine expression that reached her eyes.
"I did."
"Mom will be pleased. She won't say it, but she will be."
"How is she holding up?" Claire asked, gesturing toward the room.
"She hates the new caterer," Rebecca laughed softly. "She’s complained about the salmon three times. But she’s surviving."
"And you?"
"I sold my shares, moved to a smaller firm, and I actually saw my kids before bedtime three days this week," Rebecca said, her voice filled with a strange, new wonder. "I think I'm okay."
"I'm glad."
"Daniel is over by the ice sculpture," Rebecca noted, her tone neutral. "He’s been watching the door."
"I'm sure he has."
"Are you going to talk to him?"
May you like
"Eventually."
Claire took a sip of her water, turning her attention back to the crowd. She wasn't hiding, but she wasn't rushing toward the fire, either.
