Chapter 2 - Vows Under Glass
Emma did not accept the offer because she trusted Hollis Vane. She accepted because he had said her mother’s name without turning it into a wound. She also accepted because Charles’s creditors had begun photographing the house, and because the law did not care whether a debt had been created by hope, pride, or stupidity. Her conditions filled six pages. Separate bedrooms. No touching without permission. No public appearances without advance notice. A monthly review of every payment. The right to leave at any time without penalty. Hollis read the list, initialed each page, and added one condition of his own: Emma would never sign a document she had not read twice. “That is not romantic,” Mae observed. “It is the foundation of every good marriage,” Hollis said.
The wedding was set for three days later. Emma objected, but Hollis explained that the announcement had already been prepared and that delay would tell the wrong people he was frightened. “Who are the wrong people?” she asked. “The ones who smile when I enter a room.” The house filled with florists, tailors, and strangers who treated Emma like furniture being delivered. Charles attended the fitting in a borrowed suit and cried when he saw her in ivory silk. She wanted to feel loved by the tears. Instead, she felt inventory being counted. “You can still stop this,” she told him. “So can you,” he replied. Neither of them did.
Theo appeared whenever the house grew too crowded. He knew which corridors ended in locked doors and which servants had been dismissed without explanation. He had been away from the estate for four years, working as an emergency dispatcher in another state, and had returned when Hollis’s health began to falter. “Why come back for a man you dislike?” Emma asked while they stood beneath the conservatory’s iron ribs. “Because dislike is not the same as indifference.” He glanced at the brass key hanging from her wrist. “Where did you get that?” “It belonged to my mother.” His face changed so briefly she almost missed it. “Your mother was never here.” “You sound certain.” “I sound like someone who knows this house keeps secrets badly.”
The night before the ceremony, Emma found a note beneath her pillow. It contained only six words: Ask him what happened at Bellweather. The handwriting was slanted, hurried, and unmistakably familiar. Her mother had written grocery lists in the same narrow script. Emma carried the note to Hollis’s room. He was awake, reading beside an oxygen machine he insisted he did not need. When she showed him the paper, he closed his book. “Where did you find it?” “In my room.” “Did anyone see you take it?” “Answer me.” Hollis looked toward the window. “Bellweather was a Vane glassworks facility. It burned seventeen years ago.” “The year my mother died.” “The year your mother disappeared.”
Emma’s breath stopped. Hollis explained that the official report listed Lena among the dead, although no body had been identified. The fire had destroyed records, equipment, and a sealed office on the upper floor. Hollis had believed Lena was killed until six months earlier, when he received a message containing a phrase only she had used: Apples bruise from the inside. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Emma demanded. “Because whoever sent it also warned me that you were being watched.” “And now you want to marry me?” “Now I want to place you where the watchers cannot reach you without revealing themselves.” Emma looked at the elderly man in the bed. “You are asking me to become bait.” “I am asking you to choose whether you will be bait or a person who sets the trap.”
May you like
The ceremony took place in the conservatory beneath a ceiling of green glass. There were twelve guests, three lawyers, and one man Emma had never seen before: Victor Vane, Hollis’s only living son. Victor was silver-haired, elegant, and warm in the manner of someone who had practiced warmth in a mirror. He kissed Emma’s cheek without asking. “Welcome to the family,” he said. “My father collects strays.” Theo stepped between them. “Victor.” One word, and the room chilled. Hollis sat in a wheelchair beside the officiant, his hand steady as he signed. Emma signed after him. The ring was old platinum, plain except for a narrow line of blue enamel. When the vows ended, applause rose beneath the glass roof like distant gunfire.
At dinner, Victor lifted his champagne glass. “To Emma,” he said. “May she enjoy the benefits of being chosen.” Charles laughed too loudly. Theo set down his fork. “That sounded almost human.” Hollis tapped his spoon against the table. The sound silenced everyone. “My wife is not a benefit,” he said. “She is the only person in this room I trust.” Victor’s smile remained, but his eyes moved to Emma’s wrist. To the key. Later, when the guests had gone, Emma returned to her bedroom and found the window open despite the rain. The note was gone from the desk. In its place lay a single wet apple blossom, its stem cut cleanly through.
