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Spoiling My Sweet Wife to Her Core novel · Chapter 5 of 24

Chapter 5: Luncheon

"Tell me why," I said.

We were standing on the sidewalk outside my father's house, and the neighbors were still filming.

"I buy debt from men who are about to do something stupid," Denton said. "Ashworth Capital was one of them."

"That isn't an answer."

"It's the one I can give you today."

He did not look away, and he did not dress it up.

I thought about the street, and the box, and the pen in my hand.

Every cruel thing I had seen in two days had come from the Ashworths and the Drays.

Every kind thing had come from him.

"Today," I said. "Not forever."

"Not forever," he agreed.

That afternoon, the Lakeshore Women's Guild held its autumn luncheon at the Lakeshore Hotel.

I went because Denton's name got me a chair at table four, and because I knew Whitney would be there.

Seventy women sat under crystal lamps with white tablecloths and small plates of salmon.

I wore a dove-gray suit that a stylist had delivered in an hour.

Every head turned when I walked in, and half of them turned away again.

"That's her," someone whispered. "The thief."

I sat down and unfolded my napkin.

Whitney arrived ten minutes later on the arm of a woman twice her age.

She wore a loose lavender dress and a white glove on her right hand.

Her eyes were red-rimmed, and she made a small, brave face as she took the chair across from me.

"Lizzie," she said softly. "I'm glad you came. I wanted to say I forgive you."

The women at the table made a sound of sympathy.

"Forgive me for what?" I asked.

"For taking the necklace," Whitney said. "Preston's mother is devastated, but I told her you must have been under so much pressure."

She laid her gloved hand on mine.

I looked at it.

"That's very generous," I said. "You've been generous all week, haven't you?"

"I try."

"You haven't touched the wine."

Whitney blinked.

"Or the brie," I said. "Or the oysters, or the soft cheese on your plate."

"You've pushed your water glass away twice."

The woman beside Whitney glanced down at her untouched plate.

"You're pale around the mouth," I said. "You keep a hand pressed under your ribs."

"You were sick this morning, and you're hiding it under that dress."

I smiled at her sweetly.

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