“That skirt looks like it came off a clearance rack in Concord, Natalie Whitcomb.

Don’t you have any self-respect at all?”

“Mr.

Bellamy asked me to be here,” I said, keeping my hands resting still on my purse.

“This is a private family matter concerning Walter’s estate,” Patricia said, biting off every consonant.

“You signed your divorce decree a year and a half ago.

You’re not an Ashford, and you have no business in this building.”

“The letter was very specific, Patricia.”