Saturday arrived with clear skies and coastal light. Seabrook Estate was surrounded by manicured gardens, white tents, and soft music carried on the breeze. Guests arrived in waves, exchanging compliments and gossip while servers moved gracefully among them. Penelope stood near the entrance, radiant and confident, greeting each arrival with practiced warmth.
“She will not come,” Penelope said to Douglas quietly, glancing toward the path. “People like her know better.”
At that moment, a black sedan pulled up to the entrance. The driver opened the door, and Lillian stepped out. The conversation around them slowed, then stopped entirely. Her presence altered the atmosphere, not because she demanded attention, but because she carried herself with a calm assurance that could not be dismissed.
Penelope turned, her smile faltering as recognition set in. She stepped forward quickly, attempting to regain control.
“Well,” she said, forcing a laugh, “you cleaned up nicely.”
Lillian met her gaze without hostility.
“And you rehearsed kindness,” she replied evenly. “It is unfortunate that manners cannot be purchased.”