Chapter 4

The piano movers arrived at nine. I watched them secure the lid and carry the last of my mother’s things out of the house, then drove to the restoration studio.

The gown lay across a worktable.

“The champagne can be treated,” the specialist said. “The alterations are another matter.”

She turned back the lining. The waist had been taken in, part of the embroidery had been cut away, and the skirt had been shortened through the diamond pattern my mother had chosen.

The removed stones were in a small plastic bag.

“Can you restore it?”

“We can make a replacement panel. But some of the original fabric and embroidery were discarded. We can’t put those back.”

I ran a finger along the cut edge, then took my hand away.

“Preserve what’s left. Send me a proposal before you do any work.”

“Of course.”

“Who approved the alterations?”

She showed me the stylist’s instructions and the authorization from Adrian’s office.

The studio had asked the stylist to bring the records. Adrian arrived with Chloe while I was reading them.

“Send the bill to me,” he told the specialist. “Whatever it needs.”

I turned the authorization toward him.

“You approved this?”

“Yes. It didn’t fit her. The stylist called before the gala.”

“And you told them to cut it.”

“I told them to make it fit.”

He glanced at the bag of diamonds.

“We can replace the stones. If the dress can’t be repaired, I’ll have another one made.”

“My mother chose this with me. You knew that.”

“I know what it meant to you, Vivian.”

“You knew before you gave permission.”

He looked back at the worktable.

Chloe stepped forward.

“I didn’t know they’d cut so much away. Adrian told me the dress had been taken care of.”

I looked at her.

“He told you I’d agreed to lend it, too.”

She said nothing.

“The studio has my instructions,” I told Adrian. “They’ll send the report and costs to my lawyer.”

He checked his watch.

“I have a meeting with the family. We’ll talk tonight.”

“I’m not available tonight.”

“Then I’ll come up when you’re finished.”

He was already reaching for his phone.

“Go home. I’ll have dinner arranged.”

I took a copy of the alteration records and turned to the specialist.

“Can you pack it for transport?”

“Give us twenty minutes.”

Adrian waited by the door, as though I was coming with him.

I pulled out a chair beside the worktable and sat down.

“You don’t need to wait.”

He left with Chloe and the stylist.

I stayed until the gown was packed.

An hour later, I returned to the house. My suitcases stood in the entrance hall. The remaining boxes had been collected, and my assistant had the receipts.

I went upstairs once more.

The dressing room was empty. On the desk, I left the access card, the supplementary credit cards, and the car keys. My lawyer had already begun separating our business arrangements; her office would handle anything still outstanding.

I took off my engagement ring and set it beside a note.

Adrian, I’m ending our engagement. I’ve moved out. My lawyer will contact your office about the remaining arrangements.

I signed it and left it where he would see it.

Downstairs, the housekeeper watched the driver carry out my luggage.

“Will you be back for dinner, Miss Whitmore?”

“No. Please take my place setting off the table.”

She glanced toward the stairs.

“Does Mr. Moretti know?”

“I’ve left him a note.”

Outside, the driver secured the box containing the gown on the seat beside mine.

After I boarded, a message from Adrian appeared on my phone.

[The meeting’s finished. I’ll be home in an hour. I’ll pick up the lobster ravioli you like. Wait for me.]

I switched off my phone and put it away.

As the plane took off, I looked out at the lights below. For years, I’d waited for him to come home so we could settle an argument before bed. Even when he was late, I’d found something to do downstairs until I heard his car.

He would come home tonight with dinner, expecting to find me there. I had wanted him to come home early so many times. It hurt that he had finally offered on the evening I left.

Adrian let himself into the house with the takeout bag in one hand.

The entrance hall was dark. He frowned and reached for the light switch. I usually left a lamp on when she knew he was coming home.

“Vivian? I brought dinner.”

There was no answer.

He switched on the light and stopped.

The books were gone from the shelves. Her laptop was no longer on the desk. Beside the keys and credit cards lay her engagement ring.

He walked over and picked up the note beneath it.

The bag slipped from his hand. A container broke open against the floor, spilling dinner across his shoes.