Chapter 2
Ethan stopped moving.
“What do you mean?”
“The agreement with George Mitchell.”
“He wants to expand the hotel project. We’ve talked about it.”
“Did you offer him my Belle Meade property as collateral?”
Ethan stared at me.
“Of course not.”
I held out my phone.
He read Ruth’s message. His face changed.
“That has to be a mistake.”
“Then let’s ask him.”
I stood too quickly. Water dripped from my shawl onto the rug.
Ethan caught my elbow.
“Mom, you’re shaking.”
“I’m angry.”
“You’re freezing. Sit down. I’ll get you dry clothes, then we’ll find out what this is.”
He sounded like the boy I knew, the one who had once come home with another child’s lost lunch money and insisted we find its owner before dinner.
But I had seen him overlook things since meeting Vanessa. He called it trusting her.
I sat because my legs were unsteady.
Ethan phoned the house manager and asked for towels. Then he called George.
George answered on the second ring.
“I hear there was some confusion outside,” George said.
“Did you submit an agreement using my mother’s property?” Ethan asked.
A pause.
“It’s part of the family package we discussed.”
“We never discussed her property.”
“Vanessa said your mother was supportive.”
Ethan looked at me.
“She never spoke with my mother about it.”
George’s voice cooled.
“Then perhaps we should settle this in person.”
“I agree,” Ethan said.
He ended the call.
“I didn’t know,” he told me.
“I believe you.”
His shoulders dropped, but I wasn’t finished.
“Why did you let Vanessa speak for me?”
“She said she’d met you.”
I stared at him.
“She told me she stopped by your office last month. You were busy, but you two had coffee.”
“She came to my office. I was away.”
Ethan rubbed his forehead.
“I should have checked.”
“Yes.”
He flinched at my answer.
I wanted to comfort him. I couldn’t do it before he understood why we were there.
A soft knock came at the door.
The waiter stood outside carrying a stack of towels and a robe.
“My name is Noah,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t help sooner.”
“You offered,” I told him.
He glanced toward the hall.
“Miss Mitchell made a call after you came inside. She told someone to bring the documents to the library.”
Ethan looked at him.
“Did you hear anything else?”
Noah swallowed.
“Mrs. Mitchell said they needed your signature before the guests left.”
Ethan thanked him.
When Noah had gone, I changed into the robe in the adjoining bathroom. Ruth called while I was drying my hair.
“The papers are moving quickly,” she said. “I’ve told our counsel you haven’t authorized anything.”
“Send me the full proposal.”
“I already did. Check page twelve.”
I opened the file.
Page twelve described the old Carter House property, where my company had begun. George’s hotel group wanted to borrow against it. The agreement claimed I had agreed to guarantee the debt.
At the bottom sat an electronic copy of my signature.
I had never signed it.
My thumb went cold against the screen.
“Ruth, who received this from the Mitchells?”
“George’s attorney. He says your signature came through Vanessa.”
“Preserve everything.”
“I am. Please don’t confront them without Ethan beside you.”
“He’s here.”
Ethan heard enough of the call to take the phone from my trembling hand.
“Ruth, send the original file history to our attorney,” he said. “And call her now.”
He handed my phone back.
“I’m going to ask Vanessa where she got your signature.”
“We’ll go together.”
“Mom, I don’t want you standing in front of her again.”
“Neither do I. But I want to hear her answer.”
We reached the library as Vanessa came out carrying a cream folder.
Her eyes went to my robe.
“I see you’re comfortable now.”
Ethan stepped between us.
“Where did you get my mother’s signature?”
Vanessa blinked.
“What?”
“The investment agreement.”
Her hand tightened around the folder.
“Daddy handled the paperwork.”
“Your father says you did.”
“That isn’t what he meant.”
I held out my hand.
“Then let me see what you’re carrying.”
She pulled the folder behind her.
“Why should I hand private business documents to someone who came here pretending to be homeless?”
Ethan stared at her.
“You still think my mother owes you an explanation for how she dressed?”
Vanessa opened her mouth, but Patricia came around the corner.
“There you are,” she said. “The guests are asking questions.”
“So am I,” Ethan replied.
Patricia saw my phone.
Her gaze sharpened.
George appeared behind her, smiling at Ethan as though they had met by chance.
“This should be handled quietly,” he said.
“It will,” I answered. “Tell me how my signature reached your attorney.”
George looked at Patricia.
Vanessa moved toward the library door. In her hurry, the folder slipped from her hand.
Pages scattered across the floor.
Ethan bent to gather them. He stopped with one sheet in his hand.
May you like
It was a note, written in Vanessa’s handwriting.
At the top she had written: Before wedding—Ethan signs. After wedding—move title.
