Chapter 2 - “TAKE IT OFF”
The tribute ended.
The ballroom applauded for another twenty seconds.
Brett recovered quickly.
He always did.
He returned to the microphone wearing a tight smile.
“Well.”
Nervous laughter.
“Our son has apparently inherited his mother’s flair for dramatic storytelling.”
Micah whispered:
“That was rude.”
Audrey touched his hand.
“I heard.”
Brett continued.
“And obviously Audrey’s contribution to Holloway House cannot be overstated.”
Cannot be overstated.
Interesting phrasing from the man who had spent the last year understating it.
He gestured toward Audrey.
“Come up here.”
She did not move.
The invitation was not affection.
It was damage control.
Brett’s smile tightened.
“Audrey?”
Four hundred people watched.
Micah said quietly:
“You don’t have to.”
She looked at him.
Twelve years old.
Already learning the difference between invitation and pressure.
That alone made her stand.
Not because Brett asked.
Because she wanted Micah to see that walking onto a stage did not mean surrender.
Audrey approached.
Brett kissed her cheek.
The cameras flashed.
His lips barely moved.
“What the hell was that?”
She smiled toward the audience.
“My first question too.”
“Did you put him up to it?”
“No.”
“Then stop him.”
She turned her head slightly.
“From telling the truth?”
Brett’s jaw flexed.
Then the emcee stepped forward with the anniversary award.
Photographs.
Applause.
The performance resumed.
Until Sierra joined them.
That had apparently been planned.
The photographer waved.
“Sierra, closer.”
She stepped beside Brett.
The wheat brooch glinted.
Audrey looked at it.
Then at Sierra.
Up close, there was no doubt.
Tiny bend in the upper grain.
A scratch near the clasp.
Opal’s.
Audrey said quietly:
“Take it off.”
Sierra’s smile remained fixed.
“Excuse me?”
“The brooch.”
Brett whispered:
“Audrey, not here.”
She ignored him.
“That belonged to my grandmother.”
Sierra’s expression flickered.
“Brett gave it to me.”
There.
She said it.
In front of the photographer.
The event producer.
The emcee.
Two board members standing feet away.
Audrey looked at Brett.
“You gave away my grandmother’s brooch?”
He lowered his voice.
“I thought it was part of the vintage jewelry you never wear.”
Audrey almost laughed.
“You took it because the clasp needed repair.”
“I was going to explain.”
“When?”
Sierra touched the pin.
“I didn’t know.”
Audrey looked at her.
Maybe true.
Maybe not.
“Take it off.”
This time Sierra did.
Her fingers shook slightly.
She placed the brooch in Audrey’s palm.
Audrey closed her hand around it.
Warm from another woman’s body.
Her grandmother’s gold.
Returned.
Something settled inside her.
Not forgiveness.
Not victory.
Ownership.
---
After photographs, Brett grabbed Audrey’s elbow near the side curtain.
She immediately pulled away.
“Do not touch me.”
He stopped.
“You’re making this worse.”
“For who?”
“This entire evening is built around investor confidence.”
“No. Apparently it’s built around your confidence.”
His eyes hardened.
“Sierra and I were going to tell you after tonight.”
Audrey stared.
“Tell me what?”
Silence.
There it was.
Confirmation without confession.
She felt strangely calm.
“How long?”
Brett looked away.
“Six months.”
Audrey nodded.
Six months.
Christmas.
Micah’s birthday.
Their fifteenth wedding anniversary.
Six months.
“Does she know you’re married?”
His face tightened.
“Obviously.”
“Good. Saves time.”
“Audrey—”
She raised one hand.
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
“I’m going back to the table.”
“We need to talk.”
“We do.”
She looked at him.
“Just not before I know what else you’ve been lying about.”
His face changed.
Tiny.
But she caught it.
Micah had been right.
There was something else.
---
At home after midnight, Micah stood in Audrey’s bedroom doorway.
She had changed into sweatpants and Opal’s old Iowa State sweatshirt.
The brooch rested on the dresser.
“Are you mad at me?”
She turned.
“For the video?”
He nodded.
“A little.”
His face fell.
She continued:
“And proud.”
Confusion.
“You should have asked me.”
“I knew you’d say no.”
“Exactly why you should have asked.”
He looked down.
“Sorry.”
Audrey sat beside him.
“But thank you for reminding the room that I was there.”
Micah looked up.
“Dad’s been acting like he invented everything.”
“I know.”
Then his expression became nervous.
“Mom.”
“What?”
“There’s something else.”
Audrey’s stomach tightened.
He went to his backpack.
Pulled out a stack of printer paper.
“I found these because Dad printed them on the office printer downstairs and left them in the tray.”
Audrey took the pages.
Legal language.
Company names.
Assignments.
Licensing rights.
Trademark applications.
She read the first page.
Then the second.
Her blood went cold.
At the top:
HOLLOWAY LEGACY CONCEPTS LLC
Managers:
BRETT HOLLOWAY
SIERRA VAUGHN
Audrey’s hands stopped.
“What is this?”
Micah swallowed.
“I don’t know.”
She kept reading.
Assignments of recipes.
Brand concepts.
Menu terminology.
Photographic assets.
Training materials.
Some of the listed intellectual property had been developed by Audrey.
Some came directly from her grandmother’s handwritten recipe notebooks.
Then she reached the final page.
A proposed transaction.
Holloway House Hospitality would license several signature concepts to Holloway Legacy Concepts.
The new company would receive royalties.
The owners of the new company:
Brett.
And Sierra.
Not Audrey.
Not existing minority investors.
Not the employees whose work built the brand.
Audrey looked at her son.
“When did you find this?”
“Last week.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t understand it.”
He hesitated.
“Then I saw Sierra wearing Grandma Opal’s pin.”
Audrey stared at the documents.
The affair hurt.
The brooch enraged her.
But this—
This was different.
Brett was not merely replacing his wife.
He had been preparing to separate Audrey from the work she helped create.
May you like
And apparently he had expected her to smile beside him at the gala while he did it.
---
