Cole folded the cream card in half twice and tucked it into the inside pocket of his jacket before I had a chance to read the printed return address.

The return address bore a navy crest and the words North Ridge Holdings in tiny raised letters.

“We need sixty-two paper invitations in the mail by noon,” Cole said, laying a brass letter opener on the marble table in the foyer.

He straightened his gold cuff links twice, running his thumb over the engraved initials.

“The catering invoice came to sixty-two thousand dollars,” I said, turning my silver wedding band around my ring finger.

“That seems like a lot for eighty guests.”

“The price reflects my firm’s standards, Mara.”

“I’m going over the budget line by line before I write the deposit check.”

“Don’t rewrite the catering contract,” he said, flipping the stack of envelopes facedown.

I picked my cell phone up off the foyer table.

I opened the settings screen and set up emergency fingerprint shortcuts on my lock screen, registering a separate secondary thumbprint that would place an emergency call right away without unlocking the main screen.

“Why is North Ridge doing the seating cards?” I asked.

“They’re handling corporate logistics for the fall merger,” Cole said.

He lifted his leather briefcase off the dark oak floor, his shoes squeaking faintly on the polished wood.

“Don’t move the names around at the head table.”

“Judith asked for three more seats up front.”

“Judith is my mother,” he said, turning toward the heavy front door.

“She knows what an executive table should look like.”