I was 10 minutes late to my own housewarming party. When I finally walked in, Wren Halley, the 22 year-old college student my boyfriend had been “helping through a difficult time,” was standing in my living room greeting my relatives as though the penthouse belonged to her.
Chapter 2
My father asked the caterer to stop service.
Austin stared at him.
“Mr. Ellison, surely we don’t need to end the party over this.”
Mother settled into the sofa.
“There seems to be some confusion, Austin.”
Her voice remained perfectly civil.
“This was never your engagement celebration. It was a housewarming for our daughter.”
Wren moved closer to him.
“Mrs. Ellison, I never meant—”
Mother lifted a hand.
“I wasn’t speaking to you.”
Wren went silent.
Austin’s face hardened.
“You don’t need to humiliate her.”
I finally stepped between them.
“No one is humiliating Wren. She walked into my bedroom, took my grandmother’s bracelet and broke a family portrait while acting as hostess in a home she does not own.”
“It was an accident.”
“Maybe.”
I reached into my pocket and placed my spare penthouse key card on the coffee table.
“Give me yours.”
Austin stared at me.
“What?”
“Your key card and garage pass.”
A smile appeared at the edge of his mouth.
Not amusement.
Disbelief.
“Lily, stop.”
“Now.”
“Our relatives are watching.”
“They’re my relatives.”
He lowered his voice.
“You’re angry. I understand. But don’t make some grand gesture you’ll regret tomorrow.”
Dad spoke behind me.
“She won’t.”
Austin looked around.
No one rescued him.
I had given him access to the penthouse only the previous week.
In his mind, that access had apparently become ownership.
“I’m being thrown out over a picture frame?”
“No.”
I met his eyes.
“You’re being thrown out because you’ve forgotten where your rights end.”
Wren tugged his sleeve.
“Austin, let’s leave.”
He jerked his arm away.
I said, “Key.”
His face flushed.
Finally he pulled the black card and parking pass from his pocket and tossed them onto the table.
“Fine.”
He turned toward me.
“Three years, Lily. I stood beside you for three years, and this is how easily your family turns on people.”
I almost admired the sentence.
In one breath, he had made himself victim, hero and outsider.
“Goodbye, Austin.”
He laughed bitterly.
“You know what? Maybe this is for the best. You’re exactly like your parents.”
“Thank you.”
That stopped him.
I opened the front door.
“Take Wren with you.”
He had almost reached the elevator when Dad called his name.
“Austin.”
Austin turned.
For one hopeful second, he must have believed my father would soften.
Dad adjusted his cuff.
“The consulting retainer between your firm and Ellison Maritime expires at five this afternoon.”
Austin’s face drained.
“Sir?”
“The relationship was extended largely because of your connection to Lily.”
“That contract is sixty percent of our division’s revenue.”
“I know.”
“You can’t cancel a corporate agreement over a personal dispute.”
Dad’s eyes went cold.
“I can cancel a discretionary renewal when the principal representative demonstrates such poor judgment that I no longer trust him near my family or my business.”
Austin swallowed.
“Mr. Ellison—”
“Good afternoon.”
The elevator doors closed on him.
For several seconds the penthouse was silent.
Then Mother looked toward the caterer.
“Is the champagne chilled?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. We still have a housewarming.”
My uncle laughed first.
Then my aunt.
Soon conversation returned.
I went to the balcony.
Mother followed with two glasses.
She draped a shawl around my shoulders.
“You all right?”
“I should be upset.”
“You are.”
“I mostly feel embarrassed.”
“Why?”
“I defended him.”
“For a long time.”
“Yes.”
Mother looked across the bay.
“That’s what decent people do when they love somebody. They interpret mistakes generously.”
“Until when?”
“Until generosity requires them to lie to themselves.”
I looked down at the city.
“I kept thinking Wren was the problem.”
“She was a problem.”
Mother smiled faintly.
“But she wasn’t your problem.”
Austin was.
Not because he cared about a struggling student.
There was nothing wrong with helping someone.
What troubled me was how much he needed to be admired for helping her.
For years he had told stories about paying Wren’s tuition, buying her books, arranging internships.
He called it charity.
But whenever I questioned an expense, I was stingy.
Whenever Wren crossed a line, I was jealous.
His generosity always seemed to require my money, my patience or my silence.
Mother touched my arm.
“You didn’t lose three years today.”
“It feels like I did.”
“No. You prevented yourself from losing thirty.”
That Monday, Austin sent ninety-nine red roses to my office.
I told my assistant to donate them to the lobby’s retirement-home fundraiser.
Then his firm’s managing partner, Richard Vance, called.
He sounded as if he had not slept.
“Lily, I want to personally apologize.”
“You don’t need to apologize for Austin’s private behavior.”
“I’m afraid it may no longer be private.”
I leaned back in my chair.
“What happened?”
“When your father’s termination notice arrived, we reviewed Austin’s client expenses.”
“And?”
Richard sighed.
“We found irregularities.”
“How irregular?”
“Approximately two hundred forty thousand dollars over fourteen months.”
I sat up.
The money had been billed as client entertainment, educational sponsorships and recruitment expenses.
Many payments went directly toward Wren Halley’s tuition, apartment lease, travel and shopping.
“Does Wren work for the firm?”
“No.”
“Was she ever an intern?”
“No.”
“Then why was your company paying her expenses?”
“That is what we asked Austin this morning.”
“And what did he say?”
Another pause.
“He claimed the spending was relationship development.”
“With whom?”
“He couldn’t answer.”
I looked toward the glass wall of my office.
For three years, Austin had played the benevolent mentor.
Apparently, much of his generosity had belonged to his employer.
Richard continued.
“He has been terminated for cause. Our counsel is preparing a criminal referral.”
“I see.”
“Lily, I want you to understand that none of the partners knew.”
“This has nothing to do with me.”
“I realize that. But we were hoping your father might reconsider the Ellison Maritime account.”
“He won’t.”
“Could you speak to him?”
“No.”
Richard exhaled slowly.
“I understand.”
When the call ended, I felt no triumph.
Only confirmation.
Austin had never understood the difference between what he possessed and what he could temporarily access.
My home.
My family’s influence.
His firm’s money.
Even Wren’s gratitude.
Everything was a resource in the story he told himself about who he was.
And now the story was collapsing.
