Chapter 17
Luke had just settled into his office Monday morning when his assistant knocked lightly on the open door. "Do you have a minute?"
"Sure."
She stepped inside carrying a clipboard. "The Chamber of Commerce called."
Luke looked up from the plans spread across his desk. "About what?"
"They're finalizing the guest list for next month's Builders' Foundation gala."
He nodded. "Okay."
"They wanted to confirm whether Brooklyn Shaw was still your guest."
Luke stared at her. "I'm sorry?"
His assistant glanced down at her notes. "That's what they have on last year's file."
Luke leaned back slowly. "No."
A pause. "I'm attending with my fiancée."
"That's what I thought." She smiled awkwardly. "I told them there must have been an old record in the system."
"It must be."
His assistant left, closing the door behind her.
Luke remained motionless for several seconds.
He knew exactly why Brooklyn's name had been on the previous year's reservation.
She had attended with him after her boyfriend had canceled at the last minute.
The gala committee simply kept the previous year's information unless someone submitted changes.
Perfectly innocent.
Perfectly explainable.
Yet he found himself thinking about the anonymous RSVP cards.
About Evan.
About Grace asking whether Brooklyn ever corrected people.
He picked up his phone and he called Grace.
"Hey." She sounded distracted.
"You busy?"
"A little. I have a client in twenty minutes."
"I'll be quick." He told her about the Chamber's phone call.
Grace listened without interrupting.
When he finished, she was quiet for a moment.
"I don't think that means anything."
Luke smiled faintly.
"You don't?"
"No." She sounded sincere.
"I think old records are old records."
He rubbed the back of his neck.
"I agree."
Another brief silence.
"But?" Grace asked.
"I don't like that my first thought was Brooklyn did something."
Grace closed the file she'd been working on. "I don't either."
He laughed softly.
"I don't want to become suspicious of everything she does."
"I don't want that for you, either."
"Or for us."
Grace's voice softened. "Luke?"
"Yeah?"
"I think there's a difference between assuming the worst..." She hesitated. "...and paying attention."
That Friday, Elaine called Grace. "Sweetheart, do you have a minute?"
"Of course."
"I have a favor." Grace smiled to herself.
She was beginning to recognize Elaine's tone.
"What kind of favor?"
"The rehearsal dinner."
"What about it?"
"I'd like you to come over Sunday afternoon."
Grace pulled out her calendar. "To plan it?"
"Actually..."
Elaine laughed. "I need help with the seating."
Grace blinked.
"I thought you'd already done it."
"I had." Elaine sighed dramatically. "Then your future father-in-law pointed out I'd accidentally seated three divorced couples together."
Grace laughed. "I'd be happy to help."
"Oh, good." Elaine sounded relieved. "Just you and me."
Grace smiled. "I'd like that."
Elaine's dining room table disappeared beneath handwritten place cards, legal pads, and a rough sketch of the restaurant's private room.
Grace quickly realized why Elaine had called. Luke's family was enormous. Second cousins. Step-siblings. Former in-laws who somehow remained close friends.
Choosing who sat beside whom required the diplomacy of an international peace conference.
"I don't know how you keep everyone straight."
"I don't." Elaine laughed. "I just hope nobody notices."
They had been working companionably for nearly an hour when Elaine reached for another stack of index cards. "Oh." She frowned. "I forgot Brooklyn."
Grace looked up.
"What about her?"
"I need to decide where she sits."
Grace waited.
Elaine tapped her pencil against the table. "I was thinking beside Luke."
The words landed so casually that for a moment Grace wondered if she'd heard incorrectly.
Elaine continued sketching on the paper. "That way she can help keep everyone organized."
Grace looked down at the seating chart.
Luke.
Grace.
Brooklyn.
In a neat little row.
Elaine followed Grace's gaze.
Then froze.
"Oh." Color rose slowly into her cheeks. "Oh, goodness." She set the pencil down. "What am I doing?"
Grace said nothing.
Elaine covered her eyes briefly with one hand. "I did it again." There wasn't defensiveness in her voice. Only embarrassment. "I wasn't even thinking."
Grace believed her.
That was the strange thing. She genuinely believed Elaine hadn't meant anything by it.
"I think..." Elaine said slowly, "...I've spent so many years putting Brooklyn beside Luke at family events that my hand just..." She made a helpless gesture. "...went there."
Grace smiled gently. "It's okay."
"No." Elaine shook her head. "It isn't." She erased Brooklyn's name, then looked at Grace."I'm sorry."
The apology felt different from Brooklyn's. There was no explanation. No reminder of good intentions. No mention of misunderstanding.
Just... I'm sorry.
Grace reached across the table and squeezed her hand. "I know, it’s okay."
Elaine smiled sadly. "You've been awfully gracious with all of us."
Grace wasn't sure what to say.
Elaine looked down at the seating chart again. "I think I've been asking you to fit into a family that forgot it was supposed to make room."
Grace felt an unexpected lump rise in her throat. "You've loved Brooklyn for a long time."
Elaine nodded. "I have."
She looked directly at Grace. "But I chose you."
Grace blinked.
Elaine smiled. "Luke chose you."
She corrected herself immediately.
"And I should have started acting like it."
When Grace left an hour later, she felt lighter than she had in weeks because someone had finally acknowledged what had been happening without asking Grace to prove it.
She was halfway to her car when she heard another vehicle turn into the driveway.
A silver SUV rolled slowly to a stop behind hers.
Brooklyn climbed out carrying two garment bags over one shoulder. She looked genuinely surprised. "Grace."
"Hi."
Brooklyn glanced toward the house. "I was dropping off table linens."
Grace nodded. "Elaine's inside."
Brooklyn smiled. "Perfect."
She took a step toward the front door. Then paused. "How did planning go?"
"It went well."
"I'm glad."
Grace waited.
Brooklyn shifted the garment bags to her other shoulder. "I've been trying very hard to give everyone space."
"I've noticed."
"I mean it."
Grace believed she meant that, too.
At least partly.
Brooklyn smiled. "I don't want you to think every time you see me, I'm trying to interfere."
Grace looked at the garment bags.
"What are those?"
"Oh." Brooklyn laughed. "Chair sashes." She lifted one of the bags.
"Elaine asked if I'd pick them up from the rental company because it was on my way."
Grace felt a familiar sensation settle in her chest. Not anger.
Recognition.
Brooklyn hadn't volunteered.
Elaine had asked.
Brooklyn hadn't inserted herself.
Someone else had invited her in.
She smiled politely.
"I'm sure she'll appreciate it."
Brooklyn nodded. "I hope so." She started toward the house, then stopped once more. "Grace?"
"Yes?"
"I know you don't believe me."
Grace met her eyes.
"But I really have been trying."
Grace spoke quietly. "I know you're trying."
Brooklyn seemed relieved.
Then Grace continued. "I just don't think we're trying to accomplish the same thing."
Brooklyn's smile faded.
Neither woman spoke.
The front door opened.
Elaine stepped onto the porch. "There you are!" She looked from Grace to Brooklyn. "Oh, perfect." She smiled brightly. "You just missed each other."
Grace glanced at Brooklyn.
Brooklyn glanced back.
Both women smiled.
Only one of them meant it.
Grace climbed into her car and drove away.
In her rearview mirror, she watched Brooklyn carry the garment bags toward the house. Simply walking through a door that, for twenty-nine years, had always been open.
The problem was no longer whether Brooklyn wanted to belong there.
The problem was that everyone had spent so long holding the door for her that they no longer noticed when it should have been gently closed.