Chapter 2 - THE INVITATION SOPHIE WASN’T ALLOWED TO TOUCHSophie spent the next two minutes pretending she was not watching Ava.
She failed.
Evelyn Westmore still had one hand around Ava’s wrist, speaking to her with the warmth usually reserved for family. It was not the polite enthusiasm wealthy hosts showed ordinary wedding guests. It was relief.
Real relief.
“You should have told me you were coming,” Evelyn said.
“I wasn’t sure until this afternoon.”
“Claire has asked about you every day.”
Ava’s expression softened.
“I know.”
Sophie moved closer.
Evelyn finally noticed her.
“And you are?”
The question cut more deeply than it should have.
“Sophie Hale.”
She smiled brightly.
“Ava and I came together.”
Ava glanced toward her.
“We shared a car.”
It was a tiny correction.
But Sophie heard everything beneath it.
Evelyn nodded politely.
“Of course.”
Then she looked back at Ava.
“Stay here. Claire is coming down.”
“Evelyn, she’s getting married.”
“She can survive five minutes outside the bridal suite.”
Ava almost laughed.
Sophie watched them.
She had known Ava for nearly eight years.
Or at least she had believed she did.
They met during their final year of college at a charity design program. Ava was quiet, practical, and remarkably uninterested in social competition. She drove an old Volvo. She rented instead of buying. She rarely wore jewelry. When Sophie once asked why Ava never upgraded her wardrobe, Ava simply said:
“I like what I own.”
Sophie had interpreted that as lack of money.
Later, when Sophie began earning more in luxury fashion marketing, she occasionally paid for dinner without asking and joked about “saving Ava from another cheap place.”
Ava never corrected her.
That irritated Sophie now.
“You could have told me,” she said quietly.
Ava turned.
“Told you what?”
Sophie glanced toward Evelyn.
“That you knew them.”
“You knew I was invited.”
“Not like this.”
“What does ‘like this’ mean?”
Sophie hesitated.
“You know what I mean.”
“No. I’d like to hear you say it.”
Sophie looked away.
She did not want to say:
I thought I was the important one.
I thought you were lucky to be with me.
I thought you needed me to get into rooms like this.
So she changed the question.
“What was handwritten on your invitation?”
Ava’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“How do you know something was handwritten?”
“I saw Collins turn it over.”
Ava said nothing.
“That’s why he changed, isn’t it?”
“You were standing right there.”
“Let me see.”
“No.”
“Why are you being so secretive?”
Ava sighed.
“I’m not being secretive. I’m setting a boundary.”
“It’s a card.”
“It’s mine.”
Sophie’s irritation rose.
Before she could respond, the bridal corridor doors opened.
A woman in a white gown appeared.
Claire Westmore.
The bride.
She had not even finished preparing. Her veil was still pinned loosely. A makeup artist followed her carrying a brush, and a bridesmaid hurried behind with part of the train lifted from the floor.
Claire looked around.
Then saw Ava.
“Ava!”
She lifted the front of her wedding dress and hurried across the ballroom.
Guests turned.
Ava barely had time to move before Claire wrapped both arms around her.
“You came.”
Claire’s voice broke.
Ava hugged her back.
“I came.”
“I thought you wouldn’t.”
“I almost didn’t.”
Claire pulled away.
“Why?”
Ava glanced at Evelyn.
“This is not conversation for right now.”
Claire looked at her for a long moment.
Then nodded.
“Fair.”
She squeezed Ava’s hands.
“I couldn’t get married without seeing you first.”
Sophie felt something cold move through her stomach.
The bride did not want merely to greet Ava.
She needed her there.
Claire finally looked toward Sophie.
“Oh.”
A slight pause.
“Sophie.”
Sophie’s practiced smile returned.
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.”
“Ava and I arrived together.”
Claire glanced at Ava.
“Really?”
Again.
That tone.
As if the idea surprised her.
Sophie’s face warmed.
Claire turned back to Ava.
“Dad is going to lose his mind when he sees you.”
“I’m hoping that is figurative.”
“Mostly.”
Claire laughed.
Then she linked one arm through Ava’s and began guiding her toward the family section near the stage.
Sophie followed automatically.
Ava noticed.
“Sophie.”
“What?”
“You don’t have to come.”
Sophie laughed awkwardly.
“I’m not going to stand here alone.”
Ava said nothing.
They crossed the ballroom.
Richard Westmore stood near the stage speaking with two bankers and an attorney. He was sixty-two, silver-haired, and still carried himself like a man accustomed to being the most powerful person in any room.
Until he saw Ava.
He stopped mid-sentence.
“Ava Bennett.”
He excused himself immediately.
Richard crossed the room and embraced her.
“I’m glad you changed your mind.”
“So am I.”
He held her shoulders for a moment.
“You look like Arthur around the eyes.”
Ava’s expression shifted.
Sophie noticed.
Richard immediately softened.
“Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
He looked around the ballroom.
“You know none of this would be here without your father.”
Ava shook her head.
“Richard, please. Tonight is about Claire.”
“It can still be true.”
Sophie’s fingers tightened around her handbag.
Arthur.
Bennett.
Something about the combination scratched at her memory.
She stepped closer.
“What do you mean?”
Richard turned toward Sophie.
He seemed surprised she was still there.
“You don’t know?”
Sophie forced a laugh.
“Ava is very private.”
Richard looked back at Ava.
“That she is.”
Then he said:
“Arthur Bennett saved Westmore Hospitality from bankruptcy.”
The room seemed suddenly much quieter to Sophie.
Arthur Bennett.
Now she remembered.
Not from social media.
From business school case studies.
Bennett Capital.
Hotels.
Private equity.
A family trust worth hundreds of millions.
She slowly turned toward Ava.
“No.”
May you like
Ava said nothing.
And Sophie understood that silence perfectly.
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