Chapter 14

Sarah's POV

Roasted herb chicken, glazed carrots, and buttery asparagus filled the air with rich aromas. I sat in my usual place, my portfolio from the meeting rested beside my plate, pages neatly organized.

Adrian occupied the head of the table, while Eleanor presided at the opposite end.

Eleanor’s fork paused mid-air. Her sharp eyes fixed on me instantly. “Sarah… you haven't told us how the meeting went with Mrs. Carla. Or are we supposed to lick your feet before you start talking.”

I sighed. “The meeting with Carla Ruiz went very well today. She presented a detailed proposal for the art therapy pilot program.”

She lifted her head a little, taking a bite from her food. “Did she? Do tell us everything, Sarah. Leave nothing out. We wouldn’t want any... oversights.”

I nodded, unfolding the summary pages. “The program is called ‘Canvas Renewal.’ Carla proposed it as a structured twelve-week pilot targeting individuals and families processing grief through guided creative expression, primarily watercolor, mixed media, and reflective exercises. Small cohorts of eight to twelve participants, co-led by licensed therapists and professional artists. Two initial community center locations, with expansion plans to five sites within eighteen months if successful.”

Adrian looked up from his phone, paying full attention to what I was saying. “Interesting. What kind of funding structure did she offer?”

“Her hedge fund is prepared to commit $1.2 million in seed capital for the first six months,” I continued evenly. “With performance-based tranches for further expansion. The Moretti Foundation would provide institutional credibility and sponsorship networks, while your new cultural investment arm could serve as an anchor investor for future phases. She emphasized shared data rights for impact reporting and co-branding opportunities.”

Eleanor set her fork down with deliberate slowness, leaning forward. Her smile was thin, laced with that familiar velvet-over-steel tone. “How generous of Carla. And how conveniently timed, Sarah. Tell me, did you happen to steer the conversation toward your little personal selfish benefits, or did you manage to stay focused on the family’s interests this time?”

I kept my gaze steady, though my fingers tightened slightly on the edge of the page. “It remained strictly professional. We discussed governance, an independent advisory board with representatives from each party, quarterly performance reviews, and strict confidentiality protocols. I emphasized the need for co-approval on all public materials to protect the Harrington image.”

Adrian nodded slowly, sipping his wine. “Smart. This could accelerate the equity arm launch significantly. Ruiz has the network we need for wellness-focused investors. Did she mention integration points for the fund?”

“Yes,” I replied. “The pilot would serve as a proof-of-concept. Carla sees strong potential for scaling into larger associated funds. I suggested aligning the launch timeline with your quarterly goals, and she was receptive.”

Eleanor laughed softly. “Proof-of-concept. How charming. Sarah, darling, you speak as if this is some neutral business transaction. So tell me? Why are you doing this? To gain connections using the Moretti name.”

I lowered my eyes briefly, the softer part of me wanting to shrink back. “I kept everything aligned with the family’s objectives. No personal topics were discussed. Carla praised the proposal’s structure and my gallery experience as an asset for the artistic components.”

Adrian interjected mildly, cutting into his chicken. “Mother, let’s focus on the opportunity. If Sarah represented us professionally, that’s what counts. Ruiz as a partner adds credibility. This positions the Moretti name as innovative in the impact space. Sarah, did she agree to our branding guidelines?”

“Fully,” I said. “Sample co-branding mockups were included. I stressed that the Harrington Foundation would be the primary community face, with her fund handling backend capital and analytics. She accepted without pushback.”

I continued. “The proposal is comprehensive. Metrics include pre- and post-program assessments using validated grief scales, participant feedback, and long-term follow-ups. Projected ROI through sponsorships and associated wellness initiatives looks promising.”

Adrian’s eyes brightened with strategic interest. “Excellent numbers. This could help close the Voss deal. I’ll review the full documents after dinner and reach out to Carla tomorrow. Sarah, you did well framing this as a family effort. Mother, you see? Controlled involvement yields results.”

Eleanor’s expression remained skeptical. “Ummmm… I just hope she continues like this. If this business begins to make her act out of character, we will reconsider the entire arrangement.”

I nodded, swallowing the knot in my throat. “I understand. The proposal stays within professional boundaries. My role would be limited to creative consultant for session frameworks and artist partnerships, nothing beyond that.”

The housekeeper cleared the main course and served dessert, lemon meringue tarts with fresh berries. The conversation continued over the sweet course, tension simmering beneath the surface.

Adrian reviewed a few printed pages I had passed him. “This governance structure is solid. An independent advisory board protects all parties. Sarah, make sure Carla’s team sends the term sheet by the end of the week. We’ll have our lawyers align it with the new venture.”

“Of course,” I murmured.

Eleanor took a delicate bite of tart, then fixed me with another probing look. “And how did Carla seem personally? Did she probe into your adjustment to married life? Comment on your ‘refreshing’ gala speech? Women like her often look for weakness to exploit.”

“She remained entirely professional,” I answered softly. “Focused on metrics, scalability, and partnership benefits. No personal inquiries.”

Adrian chuckled lightly. “Mother, you worry too much. Sarah kept it on track. This is good for all of us. The pilot launches in eight weeks if we approve. It gives Sarah a contained outlet for her interests while advancing our position.”

Eleanor’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Contained. Yes. Let’s ensure it stays that way. I expect weekly updates, Sarah. No unscheduled side meetings. No gallery influences creeping in. You represent the Moretti name now.”

I nodded.

Dinner wound down with surface-level discussion of timelines and public relations angles. Adrian seemed satisfied, already mentally integrating the pilot into his fund strategy. Eleanor remained watchful. I contributed only when asked, playing the role of dutiful emissary.

My mind shifted to dad, and the discussion we had on the phone before dinner.

He asked me to meet him tomorrow for something urgent.