Chapter 2
“Put it on the stage,” Emily said to the stagehand.
He looked at Mercer instead. That small movement told her more than the captain's carefully controlled face.
“Please,” Emily added. “My father paid for that dedication. If there's a mistake, let everyone see it.”
The stagehand eased the wrapped object from the chair and laid it on the edge of the platform. A few guests stood, trying to see. Mercer extended one hand, palm down, a signal for calm that might have worked on a ship's deck.
“This is a private foundation matter,” he said. “Please return to your seats.”
Emily remained standing. “Then why are you directing the staff?”
Eleanor rose behind her, the pearls at her throat trembling. “Emily has been under considerable strain since Thomas passed. I apologize.”
The apology was delivered to the audience, not to Emily. It was the same soft humiliation Eleanor used at family dinners, only this time a hundred people could hear it.
Ben got up halfway. “Em, you're making it worse.”
“What is it?” she asked him. “What am I making worse?”
He sat again without answering.
A woman in a dark green dress stepped into the aisle. Emily recognized her from the refreshment table: Dana Pike, a civilian bookkeeper who had once volunteered for the fund. Dana held her phone chest-high, not pointed into anyone's face.
“I installed the original display yesterday,” Dana said. “It was approved in writing. I can show the order.”
Mercer turned toward her. “Ms. Pike, you're not authorized to speak on behalf of the foundation.”
“I'm speaking on behalf of myself.” Dana's voice caught, but she kept going. “You asked me to remove Mr. Harlow's name after I finished.”
A ripple went through the rows.
Eleanor reached for Emily's wrist. Emily stepped out of reach, startled by how much effort that simple move required.
“I'm not accusing anyone of a crime,” Emily said. “I'm asking why Dad's name disappeared from an event held for his fund.”
Mercer glanced toward the microphone. He seemed to calculate whether returning to it would make the problem larger.
Then he looked directly at her. “Because this award honors current leadership, not past contributors.”
Her father's name had been the founding dedication, not a current-leadership credit. Emily knew the difference. More important, she could hear the audience recognizing it too.
“That's an answer,” she said. “It isn't the truth.”
Mercer's cheeks darkened. “You've made your point.”
“No. I've found my question.”
An event coordinator hurried forward and suggested a ten-minute recess. The host announced it in a voice too cheerful for the silence that followed. Chairs scraped. People moved toward the lawn. The formal program broke apart around them.
Dana approached Emily. Her hands were shaking now that she no longer had the attention of the crowd.
“I didn't know you would confront him,” Dana said. “I wanted you to have proof first.”
“Proof of what?”
Dana looked at Eleanor, who stood a few feet away speaking urgently to Mercer.
“Not here.”
Emily almost laughed. Everyone wanted to move her somewhere private, where their versions of events could crowd out her memory.
“Tell me one thing,” she said. “Did my father approve taking his name down?”
“He couldn't have,” Dana replied. “The instruction came yesterday.”
“Then who approved it?”
Dana showed her a phone photograph of an email. The instruction had been sent from the foundation's administrator account, with Eleanor's typed name beneath it. Mercer was copied. Ben was also copied.
The sight of her brother's name hurt more than she expected.
Ben approached, his white uniform suddenly too bright in the afternoon light. “Mom wants you outside.”
“Did you see this email?” Emily asked.
His eyes flicked to the screen. He knew precisely what it was.
“It wasn't my decision.”
“Then why didn't you tell me?”
“Because every time this family has one good day, you dig something up and turn it into a trial.”
Emily felt the accusation land. She had spent eighteen months avoiding uncomfortable questions. Being called relentless now was almost absurd.
Dana touched her elbow. “I have the original proof for the plaque and a copy of the event program before it was changed. I'll send both.”
Emily nodded. She could work with documents. She could not work with the way her brother refused to look at her.
Across the lawn, Mercer bent toward Eleanor and said something that made her press one hand against her necklace.
May you like
Then Eleanor turned, stared at Emily, and mouthed three words clearly enough to read.
You signed it.
