Her smile disappeared.
“To the gala?”
“Yes.”
“But Mom’s video.”
Grant swallowed.
The annual gala always included a short archival video about Anna.
Ellie watched it every year.
“She’ll still be there.”
“I want to go.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Even if Marissa is there?”
Ellie froze.
Grant immediately said, “She won’t be near you.”
“Promise?”
“Yes.”
Evelyn looked at him.
That promise had legal implications he had not yet arranged.
She said nothing.
Grant called security.
Marissa returned at 5:07.
He watched from the study window as her black SUV entered the driveway.
She stepped out wearing oversized sunglasses and carrying garment bags.
A stylist followed.
Two assistants unloaded boxes.
She had no idea Grant was home.
Grant felt something unsettling about that.
He wanted to watch her face when she discovered him.
Not for revenge.
For information.
Marissa entered through the side hall.
Her voice carried toward the kitchen.
“Renee, put the ivory case upstairs. The shoes go—”
She stopped.
Grant stood in the kitchen doorway.
The stylist nearly collided with her.
Marissa lowered her sunglasses.
“What are you doing here?”
Grant looked at her.
“You first.”
She smiled uncertainly.
“Your flight.”
“Changed.”
“You should have called.”
“I wanted to surprise Ellie.”
Something moved across her face.
Small.
Fast.
Fear.
Grant saw it.
“She’s here?”
He stared.
“Where did you think she was?”
Marissa recovered.
“Upstairs.”
“You told me she had rehearsal.”
“She finished early.”
“You said she was upstairs.”
“Yes.”
“Which?”
Marissa frowned.
“What is this?”
Grant stepped aside.
The dog bowl sat on the kitchen island.
He had washed it.
Not because it mattered.
Because he could not stand the smear of macaroni.
Marissa stared at it.
Then at him.
Grant saw her understand.
The stylist looked between them.
Marissa spoke first.
“Can everyone give us a minute?”
Grant shook his head.
“No.”
Her eyebrows lifted.
“Grant.”
“You can send your staff home.”
The stylist murmured that she could return later.
Marissa waved her away.
The assistants followed.
When the side door closed, Marissa placed the garment bag on a chair.
“Where is Ellie?”
“With my mother.”
Her face tightened.
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“No.”
Grant picked up the bowl.
Marissa looked at it.
He asked:
“Did you put Ellie’s lunch in Otis’s bowl?”
Silence.
Then:
“It was clean.”
Grant almost laughed.