Julian lifted his wine glass and took a quiet sip, leaving the red-tagged key lying alone on the counter between us.

“I’m heading upstairs to help Harper get the main desk set up,” Julian said, giving Martha a warm nod before he walked out into the hall.

Martha kept stirring her cold coffee, the silver spoon making a steady, hollow ring against the rim of her cup.

“He’s only trying to hold us all together, Eleanor,” Martha murmured, her tone soft and passive-aggressive.

“You shouldn’t make things so hard for your sister.”