Chapter 2
Nobody moved.
Mrs. Harrington looked from Robert to me as if she expected someone to start laughing.
Nobody did.
Robert stepped beside me.
“James Carter founded the Second Table Foundation.”
A whisper moved through the ballroom.
I hated the way the room changed instantly.
Five seconds earlier, half the people around me had been pretending not to see a waiter being humiliated.
Now they were staring at me as though I had suddenly become important.
Robert continued.
“The foundation paid for more than twelve hundred emergency housing grants last year. Tonight’s gala exists because James convinced me that wealthy people could do more than write checks for photographs.”
Mrs. Harrington’s face lost color.
I rubbed the side of my cheek.
“I think everyone understands now.”
“No,” Robert said.
His eyes stayed on her.
“I’m not sure they do.”
Mrs. Harrington straightened.
“Well, obviously I wouldn’t have—”
She stopped.
Robert raised an eyebrow.
“You wouldn’t have slapped him if you knew he was wealthy?”
The silence became painful.
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
That answer was worse than anything she could have said.
I looked toward the service hallway.
Several employees were standing near the door.
Maria, one of the banquet servers, had tears in her eyes.
I had known Maria for almost ten years.
My mother had worked with her in this same hotel.
That was why I was wearing the uniform.
Twenty-two years earlier, my mother had served wealthy people in this ballroom while raising two children alone.
When she died, I promised myself I would never become the kind of man who forgot what that uniform meant.
Tonight, two servers had called out sick.
I had arrived early and seen the banquet manager panicking.
So I changed clothes and helped.
Robert had laughed when he saw me carrying trays.
“You’re supposed to give the speech,” he had said.
“I can carry wine and give a speech.”
Apparently I could also get slapped.
Mrs. Harrington finally found her voice.
“This has been blown completely out of proportion.”
I looked at her.
“You hit me.”
“It was a reflex.”
“You insulted every employee in this room.”
Her jaw tightened.
“I was angry.”
“So being angry tells us who you really are?”
That landed harder than shouting would have.
Then the ballroom doors opened.
I heard the click of heels before I turned.
Claire stood in the doorway.
My fiancée.
The woman I planned to marry in six months.
She wore a dark blue dress and looked beautiful, but the smile disappeared from her face the moment she saw us.
Her eyes went first to me.
Then to the red mark on my cheek.
Then to Mrs. Harrington.
Claire went completely still.
“Oh my God.”
Mrs. Harrington whispered her name.
“Claire.”
That was when Robert looked confused.
I felt my stomach drop.
I had known Claire’s relationship with her mother was complicated.
I knew they had barely spoken in eighteen months.
I knew her mother had remarried and moved deeper into Manhattan society.
But Claire had always called her Victoria.
She almost never called her Mom.
And I had never seen a recent picture.
Claire walked toward us.
“What happened?”
Mrs. Harrington immediately stepped forward.
“Sweetheart, this is all a misunderstanding.”
Claire ignored her.
She came directly to me.
Her fingers touched my cheek gently.
“James?”
I answered quietly.
“She slapped me.”
Claire closed her eyes.
For one second, she looked like somebody had punched her instead.
When she opened them again, there was no hesitation.
She turned toward the woman in the ruined white dress.
“You slapped my fiancé?”
The reaction in the ballroom was immediate.
Someone gasped.
Robert muttered, “Oh, hell.”
Mrs. Harrington stared at Claire.
“Fiancé?”
Claire lifted her left hand.
The engagement ring caught the chandelier light.
“I was going to tell you tonight.”
Mrs. Harrington looked at the ring.
Then at me.
Then back at Claire.
“You’re marrying him?”
Something in her tone made Claire’s expression harden.
“Yes.”
“You told me he worked in community programs.”
“He does.”
“You said he came from nothing.”
“He did.”
Mrs. Harrington lowered her voice, but everyone near us could hear.
“You never said he was connected to Robert Whitmore.”
I almost laughed.
That was the detail she cared about.
Not that she had struck the man her daughter loved.
Not that Claire was shaking.
Not even that three hundred people had witnessed everything.
She cared that she had slapped someone socially valuable.
Claire seemed to realize the same thing.
“I didn’t tell you because I wanted you to meet James before you knew anything about his money.”
Mrs. Harrington stared at her.
“You tested me?”
“No.”
Claire’s voice broke.
“I hoped you had changed.”
Mrs. Harrington’s face hardened.
“This is humiliating.”
I thought Claire might scream.
Instead she looked almost heartbroken.
“You’re humiliated?”
She pointed at my face.
“You hit him.”
Mrs. Harrington glanced around.
People were watching.
Phones were out now.
That changed her.
She stepped toward Claire and whispered, “We will discuss this privately.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“No more private conversations where you rewrite what happened.”
Mrs. Harrington froze.
Robert quietly ordered hotel security to stand nearby.
I looked at Claire.
“You don’t have to do this here.”
“Yes, I do.”
Her eyes filled.
“Because every time I did it privately, she convinced me I was the cruel one.”
Mrs. Harrington’s voice dropped.
“I am your mother.”
“And he is the man I love.”
The words hit me hard.
Claire reached for my hand.
Then she turned to her mother.
“You wanted to meet James.”
“Well, Mom, you met him.”
Mrs. Harrington’s eyes narrowed.
“This relationship will not last.”
Claire squeezed my hand tighter.
“You don’t get to decide that.”
“You have no idea what marriage requires.”
Claire gave a bitter laugh.
“I learned plenty watching yours.”
That finally cracked the polished expression on Mrs. Harrington’s face.
She stepped closer.
“You are making a serious mistake.”
Claire stood beside me.
“Maybe.”
Then she looked at me.
“But choosing James isn’t one of them.”
Mrs. Harrington grabbed her purse.
“This evening is over.”
Robert blocked her path just long enough to speak.
“No, Victoria. Your evening here is over.”
She stared at him.
“You’re throwing me out?”
“I’m asking security to escort you from an event created to support people you spent the last ten minutes insulting.”
She looked around for allies.
Nobody moved.
Then her gaze landed on Claire.
“You come with me now, or don’t come asking me for anything again.”
I felt Claire’s hand tremble.
For a moment, she became that frightened daughter again.
Then she lifted her chin.
“I stopped asking you for things years ago.”
Mrs. Harrington walked out.
The doors closed behind her.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Claire turned toward me.
“I’m so sorry.”
I pulled her into my arms.
She buried her face against my chest.
And while everyone thought the worst part of the night was over, she whispered something that made my blood run cold.
“James, my mother didn’t come here just for the gala.”
I looked down at her.
“What do you mean?”
Claire wiped her eyes.
“She called me this morning.”
May you like
Her voice dropped.
“She said Charles was going to make sure your foundation belonged to him before the end of the year.”
