“Mara, Cole asked me to take care of his birthday preparations so you wouldn’t be weighed down,” she said.

“You’ve looked so pale lately.”

“I’m the one who manages the household vendors,” I said.

She put the clipboard down on the marble counter beside a sixty-two-thousand-dollar catering invoice printed on thick white card stock.

“Cole needs everything done to an executive standard,” Brooke said.

“He can’t afford any slipups while the firm merger is pending.”

She moved closer and touched my forearm with two manicured fingers.

“You really ought to take some time for yourself,” she said.