Chapter 6: The Move She Made
Wednesday came faster than Amber expected.
I could see it in her face at breakfast — she had been planning for Thursday, and losing a day had cost her something.
She came to the dining room at eight-thirty, later than the day before.
Mark was already at the table.
She sat down, ordered, and spoke to him in a low voice for several minutes without looking at me.
Her phone was beside her plate.
She checked it twice before the food arrived.
At nine, Richard Calloway walked through the terrace entrance.
He was sixty-one, grey-haired, and moved through spaces the way people do when they are accustomed to being the most prepared person in the room.
He spotted me, nodded once, and took the chair to my left.
Amber watched him sit down.
Her eyes moved to the leather briefcase he set beside his chair.
"This is Richard Calloway," I said.
"My attorney.
He'll be joining us this morning."
"I thought the meeting was this afternoon," Mark said.
"It is.
Richard and I need an hour first." I looked at Amber.
"You're welcome to stay for breakfast."
It was not the most generous invitation I had ever extended, but it was sincere.
She could stay or she could go.
Either way, what happened next would happen.
She stayed.
Richard ordered coffee and spent the next few minutes reviewing notes in a leather folder.
Amber watched him the way she had watched Marcus by the pool — trying to find a thread to pull.
At nine-fifteen, her phone rang.
She looked at the screen, stood quickly, and walked to the far edge of the terrace.
I could not hear the words, but I could see the body language — tense, fast, one hand pressed to her ear.
After two minutes she came back.
"I'd like to speak to your attorney," she said to me.
Directly, without preamble.
"Alone.
Before whatever meeting is happening this afternoon."
Richard looked up from his folder.
"That wouldn't be appropriate," he said pleasantly.
"I represent Mrs.
Harrison."
"I understand that.
I'm not asking for legal advice.
I'd like to ask him a question."
"Any questions about Mrs.
Harrison's affairs should go through me," he said.
"And they should include Mrs.
Harrison."
Amber's jaw tightened.
"Fine." She sat back down.
"Then I'll ask here." She looked at me.
"I spoke to someone this morning.
A colleague of mine in real estate.
She ran a basic search on Harrison Hospitality Group."
"Did she," I said.
"The company is worth considerably more than seventeen properties would suggest." She paused.
"She mentioned a number.
A large one."
I said nothing.
"I want to know what the trust structure looks like," Amber said.
"Specifically — is Mark named as a beneficiary, or as a co-trustee?
Because those are very different things, legally, in terms of what a spouse is entitled to."
Mark looked at her.
"Amber.
Stop."
"I'm protecting our interests."
"You're protecting yours."
She turned to him with an expression of controlled disbelief.
"We are married, Mark.
What affects you affects me.
I am not going to sit quietly while something this significant is decided without me at the table."
"You're at the table," he said.
"You've been at the table.
This is the problem, Amber.
You walked in here and the first thing you did was calculate what you could get."
"That is completely unfair."
"Is it?" He looked at her for a long moment.
"You called her the maid.
In front of everyone in that lobby.
You made her carry your bags.
You sent me to get her sweater in the middle of the night like she was —" He stopped.
"She built all of this.
She did it alone after my father p@ssed.
And your first response to finding out is to call a contact and run a search and come to breakfast with a legal strategy."
Amber went very quiet.
"I love you," he said.
"But I am embarrassed right now.
I am embarrassed by what I've watched you do for three days, and I'm embarrassed that I didn't say something sooner."
The retired couple near the fountain had stopped talking.
The man with the newspaper had put it down.
Delia stood near the service station, completely still.
Amber looked at Mark for a long time.
Something passed across her face that was harder to read than her usual expressions — genuine, unguarded, and brief.
Then it closed again.
"We'll talk about this privately," she said.
She stood, picked up her phone, and walked off the terrace without another word.
Mark watched her go.
Then he turned to Richard and said, "What time is the meeting?"
"Two o'clock," Richard said.
"Conference room B.
Third floor."
Mark nodded.
He didn't look at me.
May you like
But his hand moved across the table and rested near mine — not touching, just near — for a moment before he pulled it back.
It was enough.
