I know what it sounds like when she breathes myname on a sigh.
I also know what it looks like when she stares at me like I’m stealing her soul.
I guess that makes two of us. Do I look as quietly startled? I must.
As the meeting starts, Katherine gathers herself. Tucking all that glorious hair over one shoulder, sitting taller in her seat, leveling her chin. Taking notes on her tablet. Reaching for the bottle of water again.
“Katherine?” Beverley says.
The corner of her mouth dips. I don’t know when I became such a student of Katherine Montgomery, but I doubt anyone else noticed, especially because she overcorrects and smiles. It’s a sort of Mona Lisa smile. Secretive, elegant, quietly charming.
“I asked Beverley if I might say a few words before we get down to business. I’ve already spoken to several of you on the phone–”
She what? When?
That’s news to me.
“But I wanted to reassure everyone that despite the fervor in my personal life these last few weeks, I am still as dedicated as ever to our organization and to helping our most at-risk youth. It feels a little like the plot line of a B-movie?—”
Fuck me and my big mouth.
I squeeze my eyes shut as the room breaks out insoft giggles. But I can’t stop watching her for long. Unlike that night on the stage, she blossoms under the attention, slowly making eye contact with every person around the conference table.
Every person but me.
That burns like an icy dagger.
“—and it’s time to hire a new writer,” she says.
More gentle laughter rolls around the table, and Katherine levels her gaze on me.
Nose in the air, hair swept back over her shoulders, her sweet collarbones on display. But it’s the look in her eyes that holds me immobile. Like she’s saying she’s going to rewrite everything. Her position at Chanler & Cort, her work here, her relationships, her future.
My chest tightens, and I hold my breath. This isn’t the ice queen I’m used to: reserved, quiet, cool. She’s warmer, disarming, and she’s holding everyone’s attention in the palm of her hand. Especially mine.
What happened in that meeting at Chanler & Cort? What the hell happened in Greece?
“I’m not going to let these last few weeks distract me from the important work we do here, and I hope you won’t either. I appreciate the understanding and support that I received from those of you I spoke to.” She nods to the man to my right, then she pauses, hergaze going soft and far off. “It’s only been recently that I’ve learned what it feels like to be truly vulnerable. And that’s a lesson I plan to keep close as we aim to help young women around the country. Given the strength of this quarter’s fundraising efforts, I have several ideas on that front, but they can wait for the meeting.”
She laces her fingers and rests the edge of her hands against the table. So proper. So capable. Confident but soft as the center of attention. Relatable for the first time I can remember.
“We look forward to hearing those ideas. If there’s nothing else…”
“No,” Katherine says with a gentle incline of her head. “Thank you, Beverley.”
“Then we’ll call the meeting to order.” The Winter heiress has around twenty years on me and is known for her passion for the cause and her detail-orientedness.
But somewhere in the back of my mind, I expected Beverley to cause a stink. Boo and hiss Katherine out of the room and off the board.
After all, Katherine’s mother is a criminal, literally in jail. The judge denied bail because her resources and connections make her a flight risk. Not to mention, she needs supervision at this point. The doctors are saying she’s sufferinga mental break.
I can’t find it in me to pity the woman.
No, Lucinda Winthrop can rot.
I guess we’ll see what happens during our meeting, but if they try to make Katherine an example, I’m prepared to sweeten the deal with a large donation. She’s not going to pay the price for the craziness she had no control over.
And if that doesn’t work, I’ll resign and we’ll start our own foundation.
