Chapter 40

August 2023

After two hours on my laptop, back in my own room, I feel ready for the closing.

The house is empty now, the smell of freshly baked cookies barely lingering. There's a certain kind of peace that falls over a house after a large party. Like the memory of the chatter makes the silence sharper.

I check in with Aunt Tracy, who's moved into party prep mode, then drive myself to the lawyer's office.

They're gathered in a large conference room. Ann's father, Barry, is there, as are Ann, William, Charlotte, Sophie, Colin, Lucy, Wes, and Fred.

"Olivia," Charlotte says, "you're late."

"Sorry." I take the only empty seat. It's next to Wes.

"Shall we begin?" Barry says.

"Why doesn't Lucy tell us what the total is first?" I say. "From the auction?"

"Yes, of course."

Lucy takes out her iPad. "If all of the sales close, it's over a million."

A murmur goes around the room.

"So much?"

"All that dining room furniture and the rest of the antique sideboards, tables, etcetera, throughout the house, and some of the rare books account for most of it. A lot of it was Biedermeier and some other pieces that are pretty sought after."

"I think it should all go to the charity. Charlotte and Sophie?"

"Yes, yes, of course," Charlotte says, and Sophie agrees.

"Are you sure, Olivia?" Wes says. "Why not divide it among the four of you?"

"We have enough," I say firmly.

"Yes, of course."

Barry rattles his papers. "If that's all taken care of, we can circulate the paperwork for the transfer?"

"No," I say, "we need to discuss some things in there first."

"Surely you've had enough time to do that already?"

I ignore him. "Did you get the papers, Charlotte?"

"I think so …"

"But you didn't read them?"

She checks her manicure. "I glanced at them … Everything seemed in order."

"And what about you, Sophie—did you get them?"

Colin leans forward. "What's all this about, Olivia?"

"Will you hand me the papers, Barry?"

He hands a set to me, a worried frown on his face. I flip through them slowly, Wes stiff next to me, the air full of tension. The first thing I'm looking for is on page six. I found it that afternoon when I finally bothered to read it carefully before coming here.

"Did you review this, Fred?"

He looks up. "For my own part, of course. All seemed to be in order."

"And what about this here, on page six?" I point to a clause in the middle of the page. "The finder's fee that goes to Barry and Ann's firm?"

"That's standard in these large types of sales," Barry says, though I was asking Fred.

"Charlotte, didn't you tell me they were being paid a fixed fee?"

Charlotte's mouth turns down at the corners. "Yes, I did say that."

"How much?"

"Two hundred and fifty thousand."

"What?" Sophie splutters. "You agreed to that?"

"It's a tiny fraction of the purchase price. I asked around …"

"Who did you ask?" I say.

She raises her chin. "Well, Ann, of course, but I did ask the neighbors who bought down the road a few years ago, and they said the closing costs were outrageous. It wasn't polite to ask them what they meant specifically."

"It's one percent of the sale price, Olivia," Ann says. "And all signed and sealed by your father. It's our standard agreement in sales such as these where we also act essentially as the broker. A true broker's fee would be much higher."

"I thought that too," I say, "but I looked into it today, and usually with high-value homes, the parties don't do a percentage, but a fixed amount."

"I don't get your point."

"It's not the one percent that's the real problem."

"What then?"

"Clause twenty. It's all a bit vague, but as I read it, you've also given yourself a finder's fee of five percent."

"One point two-five million?" Fred says, flipping through his own copy. "That can't be right."

"Am I right? Ann? Barry?"

Barry coughs into his fist. "Well, now … I do leave these types of details to Ann, but yes, we do also charge a finder's fee in some high-wealth transactions. I'm sure it's in the agreement your father signed."

"William?"

He's sitting at the other end of the table, with that middle-distance look he always gets with financial matters. "Yes, dear?"

"Did Barry or Ann explain to you that they'd be getting six percent of the proceeds of the sale?"

"I don't recall discussing numbers."

"Did you read the documents before you signed them?"

"No," Charlotte says, "he didn't."

"But we've known Barry for years," William says. "I'm sure everything is aboveboard."

"I'm sure they were counting on that."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Charlotte asks.

"That William was an easy mark. Everyone in the Hamptons knows that." I reach across the table to him. "I'm sorry, Dad."

"It's all right, my dear. It's true that I don't enjoy the details of financial transactions. But there's still enough money for everyone, isn't there?"

"Yes, only … Give me a minute." I flip through the document again, past more pages of warranties and representations, and then, on page twenty-six, I get to the nitty-gritty: the division of the remainder, minus fees, and commissions, between William's children. Only, it isn't just to us, not Charlotte and Sophie and me, but to Wes and me. Charlotte and Sophie each get five million, but mine is divided in two.

"Fred, why did you insist on putting together the charity documents yourself instead of letting Ann do it?"

Fred meets my gaze. The document in front of him is open to the same page I'm looking at. "It just seemed like … a lot of responsibility was being put into her hands."

"You didn't trust her?" I press. "Why?"

"It wasn't based on anything concrete."

"But?"

Fred clears his throat and doesn't take his eyes off me. "But I heard some things in New York … rumors, only. I didn't like how quickly she seemed to have ingratiated herself into the family. When she and Charlotte started dating, she should've handed the file off to someone else. It's a conflict of interest."

"What's that?" William says. "Ann and Charlotte are what?"

"They're dating, Dad," Sophie says. "She's gay. Deal with it."

Charlotte's face is bright red. "Thanks for outing me. And for the record, I'm bi. Honestly, Olivia, first you steal Wes, and now this?"

"I didn't steal Wes, and for the rest of it—"

She lifts her chin. "I can choose who I want to tell about my private life."

"You can." I look at my father. "Do you care, Dad?"

"Of course not. Why does everyone treat me as if I were born in the nineteenth century?"

"Sorry, Father," Charlotte says. "I didn't want to upset you."

"It's perfectly all right, dear. Only I don't understand what this has to do with everything."

"A few more questions for Fred," I say. "Then I'll explain."

"Go ahead."

"How did you learn that the house was for sale, Fred?"

"I was approached."

"By Ann?"

"That's right."

"You didn't think that was weird?"

"I had some trepidations, but she said it was Charlotte's idea, and she knew I had a connection to the house. I'd been looking for a property in the Hamptons for several years; that was well known in certain circles."

"Do you know if anyone else was approached?"

"I do not."

"I guess that doesn't matter. It didn't have to be you. Anyone's money would do." I tilt my head to the side. "Then again, I'm sure it was an extra bit of dessert for Wes that it was you."

My use of Wes's name ripples through the room.

He's been remarkably silent next to me. But now, as all eyes are on him, he says, "I'm not sure what you're inferring, Olivia. You know I don't have any fondness for Fred."

"No, but you do for Ann."

The room goes still.

"What?" Charlotte says. "What?"

I wish I didn't have to do this, that I didn't have to expose how badly I've been betrayed, and Charlotte too, in front of everyone, in front of Fred, but I don't have a choice.

I shift my gaze to Ann. She's wearing that same dress she was wearing at the auction, the one I thought was so flattering. At her waist is the belt she was wearing the day I met her, an intricate metal design. Unforgettable.

"Why is my share divided between Wes and me? I didn't ask you to do that."

She doesn't look worried in the least. "It's for tax purposes."

"I see. But you haven't divided Sophie's share with Colin."

"Why should Colin get half the money?" Sophie says. "Not that I won't share it with you."

"Of course," Colin says, patting her on the hand. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Ann?" I say. "What's the explanation?"

"If you don't want it that way, I'm sure it can be corrected," Charlotte says, her voice faltering. "What's the big deal? And what did you mean before about Wes and Ann?"

Wes's leg is moving under the table now, bouncing up and down in a staccato motion.

"They're a couple," I say as evenly as I can. "Ann's the one Wes cheated on me with."

"No," Charlotte says. "No."

"Yes. I'm sorry …"

"I thought you didn't know who it was?" Sophie says.

"I didn't, not until today."

"What made you go looking?"

"It doesn't matter."

Charlotte moves her chair away from Ann. She's white to the hairline. "Please tell me."

"It was the belt."

Ann's hand goes to her waist, realizing her mistake.

"Olivia, if you don't tell me what's going on immediately, I'm going to scream."

I tear my eyes away from Ann and focus on Charlotte. "As far as I can tell, Ann and Wes met last year. They're on a board together, a startup that Wes got involved in after his own business went under during the pandemic."

I'd found it by googling their names, and there it was. Wes had told me about the board, but not about Ann. But if I had to pinpoint the moment when I started questioning our relationship—him—it was shortly after he met Ann last fall. Assuming that's when they met.

"Wes and I were … having trouble. I thought at first that it had to do with the fact that he couldn't get his new company off the ground. He was withdrawn and secretive for months, ever since last fall. Every time I asked him about it, he claimed he was stressed, that it would pass. But then, right before I came here, I found the text messages." I stop to gulp in some air.

Those horrible, explicit messages had turned my fears into reality in an instant.

"He'd given her a fake name in his contacts—a male name—but it was clearly a woman. There were … photographs … not her face, but other … You can imagine. In one of them, she was wearing a belt. The belt Ann's wearing today."

I steal a glance at her. She's staring at me, with her eyes moving back and forth like she's looking for an exit.

"When I found the messages, I confronted him, and he admitted the affair but said it was a one-time thing. He didn't tell me who it was or how he met her, and I didn't press it because I didn't want the details. I didn't want to know any of it. I just needed to leave."

"You came here," Sophie says.

"Yes. I left him. And that was a problem. It put a wrench in their plan."

"What … what plan? What do you mean?"

"To get a large portion of the sale for himself. For them."

"How?"

"He knew Dad was going to have to sell the house, that the bank was forcing the issue. I think that's what gave him the idea."

That and the fact that he was furious at me. That he wanted to punish me. Or maybe he never cared about me at all, and I'd been a mark all along.

"But the money could've gone to Father only," Sophie says. "Wes didn't know he'd agree to give some of it to us."

"He knows Dad is suggestable and that he doesn't care about money. So they worked it out together. Ann would befriend Charlotte and suggest that she and Barry be the lawyers on the deal. And it was Ann who proposed that Aunt Tracy convince William to divide the money. Isn't that right, Charlotte?"

Charlotte speaks quietly. "Yes, that's right. It was Ann's idea."

"Then she found a buyer, someone who'd pay top dollar, and maybe a bit more for the satisfaction of getting the house: Fred."

"Why would Fred care so much about getting the house?" Sophie asks.

"Because he knows I love it," I say, keeping myself from looking at Fred. "And he wanted to hurt me."

"Why?"

"Wes knows why."

Wes had confronted me five years ago in London after Fred left. He knew enough about my past that when Ash told him Fred was in London and that he should come to get me, he assumed the worst.

It all came pouring out of me. How I wanted to make sure Fred and I were truly over if I was going to marry Wes. How close I'd come to leaving him. How I still didn't know what I was going to do when Fred came over, but he should assume the worst.

He was quiet for a long time, and then he told me that didn't want things to end. That he still loved me and that if I wanted to be with him, I could. I could put all of my tortured past with Fred away and start fresh, clean.

And because I'd seen the look on Fred's face in the doorway, because I knew Fred wasn't going to have coffee or tea or anything with me, not after I'd hid Wes from him, I'd agreed.

I wanted a clean future, a fresh start. I was sick of tortured love.

I married Wes in August in the garden, just like we'd planned, and I gave our marriage my best. But then that note had arrived from Fred at the start of the pandemic. The charm, the request to run away together. And all Wes's doubts must've come rushing back.

No, worse. He'd thought I'd go to Fred if I got that note, so he hid it from me. But then that filled him with doubt and resentment. And then the way we rubbed at each other in the months that followed, his business failing—all of that built into a big ball of hate. He couldn't trust me to pick him, and so it was like I hadn't. He wanted to hurt me like I'd hurt him.

Worse.

"But why come here after you left him?" Sophie asks. "Why try to reconcile with you?"

I keep waiting for Wes to say something, for him to tell me I've got it wrong, to amend the narrative. But he doesn't say a thing, just works the muscle in his jaw and clenches his hands on the table.

"If I got the money after we separated, he wouldn't be entitled to any of it in the divorce. But if we were together, with Ann's help, he could get his half outright."

"But you would've found out," Charlotte says. "We all would have."

"They didn't care about that. Once the wires went through this afternoon, they'd be gone."

It's that word that breaks me.

Gone.

I'm furious at Wes, I hate him maybe, but part of me still loves him too. And whatever I did, it wasn't so bad as to deserve this.

"Is this all true, Wes? Ann?" Sophie asks, her face white, her hands shaking.

"No," Wes and Ann say together.

Charlotte's hysterical laugh is cut off by a sob. "Oh my God, I fell for you. I fell for all of it."

"We both did," I say.

William stands unsteadily and holds out his arm. He points to Wes. "You leave now. And don't you come back here again."

"She has it wrong."

"What part?" William says as his voice gains confidence. "You didn't cheat on my daughter? You didn't try to defraud all of us?"

"I—"

"No. No. I never liked you. When you came around with Charlotte all those years ago, I knew something about you wasn't right. But Olivia, she'd been through so much and she seemed happy … I didn't want to refuse her twice."

Wes's eyes narrow. "You stupid old man."

"Enough," Fred says, rising to his feet. "Enough."

Wes and Fred stare at each other, both breathing heavily, spoiling for a fight. Fred looks like he might kill Wes if given half the chance, and that's not what I want.

I push my way between them, holding a hand out to both of them. My right hand touches Fred's chest, but my eyes are on Wes, even as I can feel Fred's heart beating against my palm.

"It's over, Wes. It's all come out now. Just go."

Wes's eyes travel from mine to my hand resting on Fred. "I knew you'd choose him."

"You didn't even give me the chance to prove you wrong."

He takes a step toward me, and before he can complete it, Fred is there, holding Wes's arm back behind his back.

"You're not going to be wanting to do that, mate," Fred says. "I swear to God. Don't test me in this."

Wes struggles for a moment, then goes limp, like he's giving up.

"Let me go," he says quietly. "I'm going."

Fred releases him, and Wes moves toward the door.

"You too, young lady," William says.

Ann rises. "I can explain."

"Don't bother, Ann," Wes says. "She figured it out. I underestimated you, Olivia."

I meet his eyes, and they're empty. I should leave well enough alone, but I have to know. "Was it all a lie? From the very beginning?"

"No," he says. "I'm not … This wasn't some grand plan. That's not why I married you."

"How can I believe you?"

"You think I'm capable of that? All these years?"

I shake my head slowly. "I don't know you. That's what it feels like."

"I loved you. I loved you for a long time."

"And then?"

He makes a gesture with his hand. "I think you know what happened." He looks at Fred. "What does it matter? You never loved me. He was always standing between us."

"No, I—"

"Don't, Olivia. What's the point?"

This stops me. Because he's right. We're over. And there isn't any point in arguing about it. Maybe there never was. I return to my chair slowly.

Wes hesitates for a moment, then leaves, his shoulders down, defeated. Ann follows him without saying a word.

The rest of us sit there in silence as Fred settles back into his chair.

"What now?" Sophie says eventually.

"I believe I can be of service," Fred says. He takes the document from me and picks up a pen. He makes short work of it, striking through various clauses, explaining as he goes. "I'll be removing your commission and fee. I assume you agree, sir?"

Barry rouses himself. "I'm terribly sorry about all of this. I had no idea."

"We'll let the licensing board sort that out, shall we?" Fred draws a few other heavy lines, initialing each as he goes. "Now, that's all done. Each of you sign and initial where I've initialed, and this will be the right copy." He speaks to Barry. "The money shall only be wired in accordance with these instructions, you understand?"

"Yes, yes, of course."

Fred passes the paper to me, and I do as he instructed. Then I pass the papers to Charlotte. She's crying, her shoulders slumped. "I can't believe this is happening."

"I'm sorry, Charlotte," I say. "I wish it didn't have to be this way."

Charlotte signs, then pushes the papers to Sophie, who signs them and gives them to Barry.

"Good," Fred says. He turns to Lucy, who has been sitting in stunned silence through all of this. "And that house that Charlotte is buying … Do you still want it, Charlotte?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Surely there's another lawyer in town who can take care of that transaction?"

"Absolutely," Lucy says. "And I want to apologize for my part in it."

"Your part?" I ask with a sinking feeling.

"It was Ann's idea that I approach you about the estate sale. I should've said."

"They wanted it all," Sophie says. "As much as they could get."

"I swear to you I had nothing to do with this," Colin says, rousing himself.

"I know, Colin."

"But oh God, I'm embarrassed to say this now … I do think he was trying to rope me in."

"How?"

"He offered me a job. At a new company he was going to start once he'd raised the funds. As an equity partner."

"What would the buy-in have been?" I ask.

"A million."

"What?" Sophie says.

"I told him it wasn't my money to decide what to do with. And then Fred offered me a job, much more solid and secure …"

"Thank God for Fred," Sophie says, standing, pulling Colin's hand. "Can we go now?"

"Yes."

She looks at me. "I guess we're still having the party?"

"Why not? Dad?"

"What? Oh yes, yes. All my friends are coming."

"We better get back, then." Sophie helps him up. "Come along, now. I'll explain everything in the car."

Charlotte stands and I walk to her and hug her. "I'm so sorry, Charlotte."

"I thought this was it, you know? My chance at happiness."

"I know."

"I should've seen through her."

"We were both taken in. That's a good thing."

"How can it be a good thing?"

"Because I don't want to be the sort of person who'd suspect anyone who's nice to me of being a con artist."

Charlotte laughs through her tears. "All right, good point."

"Besides, this is all Ash's fault."

"What? How?"

I glance at Fred, who's pretending not to listen. "It's complicated, and I'm mostly joking. I'll tell you some other time."

Everyone starts to file out, but I linger behind. Fred is standing over Barry as he works on his laptop, giving the wiring instructions, making sure they're carried out correctly.

"All done," Barry says.

"You'll file the papers now?"

"Yes, I'll do that now and bring the formal set to the party?"

"Why don't you bring them by tomorrow morning?"

"Yes, of course."

"And you'll be cooperating with the police."

"The police!"

"If that's what the family decides."

He's shaken. It's hard to know how much Barry knew about what was going on, but the fees, that for sure he knew about. He busies himself, closing his laptop, taking the papers, and leaves.

And now it's just Fred and me.

"Thank you," I say.

"For what?"

"Taking care of the paperwork. And trying to tip me off in the first place a couple of weeks ago."

"Did I do that?"

"You know you did. I was just too stupid to listen."

"I didn't know anything for certain … not all of the financial shenanigans."

I search his face. "But you knew something. Something you didn't tell me."

His mouth turns down. "I saw Ann in the clubhouse early one morning."

"Too early?"

"I knew she must've stayed in someone's room, and I didn't think it was Mr. Pinkman, all eighty-two years of him."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It wasn't my place. And I didn't want to be in the middle of you and Wes again."

"That was my fault." I take a step toward him. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For London. I should've come clean to you before … well, before anything."

"Yes. Though you did owe me that one."

I almost laugh. "Is that what you thought at the time? That I was getting back at you for Catherine?"

"Weren't you?"

"Not deliberately."

"And if Wes hadn't shown up?"

I hesitate. How many times can I put myself out there for this man? "I would've chosen you."

"But you married Wes."

"You didn't seem like an option. And I did love him. I thought I could … start again, have a relationship with less drama."

"Boy, were you wrong."

"Right?" I laugh, then stop. "It's not funny, though."

Fred doesn't take his eyes off me. "I know," he says softly. "I'm sorry."

"No, no, I deserve it. Keep it coming."

"I don't want to do that." His tone is different now. His voice deeper.

"I found something," I say.

"What?"

I reach into my pocket and grasp the charm. I pull it out and open my palm slowly. "I only found this today. And your note. Wes hid them from me."

Fred sucks in his breath. "My God."

"He did it because he knew. He knew what I'd do if I got it."

"Would you have?"

I nod slowly as his eyes search my face. "But Fred, that was three years ago … I understand if …"

"Hmm." He clears his throat. "You had something wrong today."

"Oh? What?"

"I didn't buy the house to spite you."

"Why then?"

"You must know."

"I don't."

"Olivia … I bought it for you."

My hands start to tingle. "But why?"

"Because I want you to be happy. And this is where you're happiest. I've always known it."

"You bought it for me. Even though you thought I'd ignored your note?"

He takes a step closer, his hands at his sides.

If I take a step, I'll be in his arms.

"But you didn't."

"But you thought I did."

"I know, but … I've never been able to move on. I knew from that first conversation on the beach that we were meant to be. And every time we've been together, summer after summer, has confirmed it. There's never been anyone like you. I've tried. More than once. But it was no use."

"Why can't we make it work then?"

"Timing, I think. When you were ready, I wasn't. And vice versa." He takes the charm from my palm, his fingers grazing my skin. "Fifth time's the charm?"

I half laugh, half cry. "Yes, Fred. Yes."

"Are you sure?"

"I've never been more certain of anything."

He pulls me to him, his mouth on mine in an instant.

Our mouths crash together, our arms lock around each other, and oh, oh, oh. This kiss. This kiss. My god, how could I live without this for so long?

I want to get lost in it. In him. I want to stay this way forever, but we're in a boardroom in daylight, and that seems like a bad idea.

I pull away. "There's one thing."

"Naturally."

"I'm still married."

"I heard you were separated."

"Oh?"

He pulls me closer. "New York is a gossipy place."

"I've never paid attention."

"It's one of the things I love about you."

I feel weak at the word. "This is nuts, you know, us thinking about this."

"I don't think so. I think it's way past time."

He pulls me in again. His arms wrap around me, and his hands slip under my shirt and up my back, his fingers like fire on my skin.

I don't know how long the kiss lasts—not enough time to make up for the past.

"We're idiots, you and I," I say when we break apart again.

"I agree."

"We should get out of here."

"That sounds like a good idea."

"There's a party at my house."

He leans back. "Am I invited?"

"I think I can swing that. But I'm afraid we have to go somewhere else first."

"Where's that?"

"Your room."

"Won't that make us late?"

"Probably. But I'm willing to risk it if you are."

He rubs his nose against mine. "I don't want your father thinking badly of me."

"Are you kidding, he loves you."

"And you?"

"I love you, Fred."

I kiss him again to prove it, to seal it, and when we break apart, he's never looked so happy, not in all the time I've known him.

"I love you, Olivia."

"That's lucky."

He reaches for my wrist and attaches the charm. "It will be."

He kisses it in place, then me again for good measure. When we pull apart, I hold out my hand and he takes it.

"You really bought me my house?"

"I was hoping I'd get to live in it with you."

"Really? Even before you saw me?"

"Well …"

"You can be honest."

"I didn't know what would happen. I wanted to help you. I knew I still loved you—"

"And you were dating Lucy."

"A few dinners. I like her."

"Hedging your bets?"

He takes my hands and pulls me to him. "No. I think I was protecting myself in case you rejected me. But I was lying to myself. From the minute I saw you again at your sister's house, I knew it was you or no one."

My knees feel weak. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"I tried to, but—"

"I told you to shove it."

"Pretty much."

"We always get in our own way."

"We do. Which is why I think my plan to move in is the right one. If we commit, actually commit, then we'll have to work it out."

"I see."

He looks nervous. "Bad idea?"

I pull his hand to my chest so he can feel my beating heart. "When can you move in?"