“The way you talk to me like you’re Mom now.”
Footsteps sounded upstairs.
Sienna heard them too.
Her anger vanished so quickly that it frightened me.
Garrett entered the kitchen wearing a blue shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms.
“Sienna.”
Her eyes went to him before they returned to me.
Too fast.
Too familiar.
I wondered how many times I had watched them do that without noticing.
Garrett leaned against the counter.
“Everything okay?”
“Fine,” Sienna said.
I picked up my coffee.
“Harrison wants all trust-related conversations to go through his office for now.”
Garrett’s expression remained pleasant.
But his fingers stopped moving.
“All conversations?”
“Just until things settle.”
“That seems unnecessary.”
“Harrison says it protects everyone.”
Garrett smiled again.
“Of course.”
Sienna stared into her cup.
That afternoon Garrett overplayed his hand.
He came into the study carrying a folder.
“I thought I could take some of this off your plate,” he said.
Inside were forms authorizing him to speak with financial representatives on my behalf.
Not ownership.
Not yet.
Access.
The first door.
I looked up at him.
“You already filled these out.”
“Only the basic information.”
“How did you know which accounts needed authorization?”
For the first time, he hesitated.
“You mentioned them.”
I had not.
I closed the folder.
“Leave them with me.”
His smile thinned.
“Eliza, I’m your husband.”
“I know exactly who you are.”
The sentence slipped out before I could stop it.
His eyes sharpened.
I softened my voice immediately.
“I mean I trust you.
I’m just overwhelmed.”
He studied me for several seconds.
Then he kissed my temple.
“Of course you are.”
That evening I called Harrison from the vineyard office and told him about the forms.
“Bring them tomorrow,” he said.
“What are we waiting for?”
“For him to tell us what he thinks he’s entitled to.”
