Victor’s smile cooled.

Grace whispered, “Can we please continue?”

Dinner resumed.

But nothing felt the same.

Evelyn sat beside James feeling as though the walls of the house had shifted.

A plate appeared before her.

James passed her the potatoes.

“You made these?”

She nodded.

“And the bread?”

“Yes.”

“The venison pie?”

“Yes.”

He tasted another forkful.

“Then whoever thought you belonged in the kitchen instead of at this table has poor judgment.”

Evelyn almost smiled.

Almost.

Across from them Beatrice’s knuckles whitened around her fork.

Victor noticed.

And smiled to himself.

That smile unsettled Evelyn more than her mother’s anger.

Later, after the lemon cake had been served, Victor rose and tapped his glass with a spoon.

Everyone quieted.

He placed one hand on Grace’s shoulder.

“I would like to thank Mrs. Harrow for welcoming me into this remarkable family.”

Applause followed.

Beatrice glowed.

Victor continued.

“My father has always taught me that marriage should unite more than two hearts. It should unite families, futures, and fortunes.”

Something about the word fortunes made James glance toward him.

Victor smiled.

“As many of you know, the railroad survey has recently moved westward. Willow Creek may soon become far more important than anyone imagined.”

The guests murmured.

Evelyn noticed Beatrice stiffen.

Victor raised his glass.

“To Grace.”

Everyone drank.

James didn’t.

Evelyn saw it.

Victor did too.

“Something wrong, Mercer?”

James set down his untouched glass.

“No.”

“You don’t approve of railroads?”

“I approve of railroads.”

“Then perhaps you disapprove of engagements.”

A few guests laughed nervously.

James leaned back.

“I disapprove of people discussing fortunes before wedding vows.”

The laughter stopped.

Victor’s jaw tightened.

Grace suddenly looked pale.

Beatrice pushed back her chair.

“I believe we should move to the parlor.”

But James remained seated.

“Actually, Mrs. Harrow, there is something I need to discuss first.”

Beatrice’s face changed.

Only slightly.

But Evelyn saw it.

Fear.

James reached inside his coat.

He removed a sealed brown envelope.

On the front, written in faded black ink, were two words.

Evelyn Harrow.

Evelyn stopped breathing.

James placed the envelope on the table.

“My father died last February,” he said.

The room fell silent again.

“Before he died, he gave me several documents and asked me to deliver this one personally.”

Beatrice stood abruptly.

“This is neither the time nor place.”

James looked at her.

“He was very specific about the recipient.”

He pushed the envelope toward Evelyn.

“It belongs to you.”

Evelyn stared at it.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know everything inside.”

Victor suddenly spoke.

“If it concerns the Harrow property, perhaps the family attorney should inspect it first.”

Evelyn looked up.

“You’re the family attorney?”

Victor smiled.

“Informally.”

James’s eyes narrowed.

“Interesting.”

Beatrice said sharply, “Evelyn, give me the envelope.”

Evelyn’s fingers had just touched it.

She stopped.

“Why?”

“Because I’m your mother.”

James said nothing.

Victor said nothing.

Grace looked as though she might be sick.

Evelyn slowly picked up the envelope.

Her mother extended her hand.

“Give it to me.”

For twenty-seven years Evelyn had obeyed that voice.

When Beatrice told her to leave school at sixteen because the ranch needed help, Evelyn left school.

When Beatrice said Grace required new dresses more than Evelyn did, Evelyn agreed.

When Beatrice sold Evelyn’s horse to pay Grace’s music lessons, Evelyn cried privately and said nothing.