Chapter 3 - The Threat On The Sidewalk
Lily’s hands trembled slightly as she set the porcelain cup in front of Claire.
"Did you say... the Hale wedding?" Lily asked before she could stop her tongue from moving.
Claire looked up, her blue eyes narrowing into cold amusement as she evaluated Lily from head to toe. "Yes. As in Grant Hale. Does that name mean something to a waitress?"
Lily’s mind spun with images of the quiet man in the gray coat who drank black coffee and gave gentle smiles.
She remembered his worn sleeves and how he called himself a man who simply worked with old buildings. He wasn't a humble craftsman; he was the reclusive heir to the largest fortune in northern Ohio.
"No," Lily whispered, looking down at the tray. "I just... I recognize the dress."
"You recognize it?" Claire laughed, taking a delicate sip of espresso before pushing it away with a grimace. "It’s an original vintage consignment piece. I only bought it because Grant’s mother insisted on traditional lace for the cathedral ceremony. Otherwise, I wouldn't touch something that’s been sitting on a dusty street corner."
Marianne hurried forward, placing a hand on Claire’s shoulder to usher her away.
"Let’s get you back to the suite, Claire. We have the tailor waiting from Chicago."
As Claire walked out, she tossed a crumpled twenty-dollar bill on the floor instead of the table.
Lily didn't touch the money; she walked out behind them into the bitter morning chill, watching Marianne load the bag into a black sedan.
"Marianne, please," Lily called out, crossing the curb without her coat.
Marianne turned, her expression turning immediately toxic as she shielded the car door with her umbrella. "You again? Don't make a scene in front of my best client, Harper."
"That dress shouldn't be cut," Lily pleaded, her voice trembling in the freezing wind. "The construction is delicate. If you slash that vintage neckline, the lace will unravel completely."
"It's a ten-thousand-dollar gown, girl," Marianne hissed through clenched teeth. "I sold it for thirty to a billionaire’s bride. I don't care if she burns it for firewood, and neither should someone who washes dishes for minimum wage."
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Marianne slammed the car door shut, leaving Lily standing on the icy asphalt as the sedan sped away into traffic.
Across the intersection, a sleek town car pulled silently to the curb, its rear window sliding down to reveal Grant Hale watching her with dark, unreadable eyes.
