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“Charlie says he was only trying it on. He'll give it back tomorrow.”
Nellie put her phone away, not a flicker of panic on her face.
“After the ring was resized, he was just checking the fit for you. Your fingers are about the same. I didn't think he'd take a photo.”
I looked at her. “It's my wedding ring. Why would he need to try it on?”
“The clerk delivered it to the mall after you'd already left. Charlie helped out, that's all.”
“And putting it on his ring finger, that was helping out too?”
Nellie was quiet for two seconds, then lifted a hand and rubbed at her brow.
“I'll have him return it to you tomorrow. Don't wreck a relationship over one object.”
Same as always.
When Charles took my room, my sneakers, my college spot, our parents said the same thing. It's just one thing.
None of those things ever came back.
The next evening, Nellie laid a dark green designer suit on the edge of the bed.
“Mom wants you and Charlie both in green, like when you were little.”
I glanced at the tag. “This is his size.”
“A suit can be altered. You're thin. You can wear it even this snug.”
She picked up the tie for me, her voice so gentle it was as if she were humoring me. “It's the birthday dinner tonight. Don't put your parents in an awkward spot.”
I didn't change.
When we reached the hotel, Charles was standing at the door in that dark green suit, and he came jogging over to me, grinning.
The white gauze was already off his hand, only a faint pink line left on his fingertip, and my wedding ring was still there on his ring finger.
“Chris, how did your foot get so bad? It's all my fault, I made Nellie come back late.”
He crouched down to touch my cast, but Nellie caught his shoulder first.
“Don't crouch. Your blood sugar's low.”
Charles used the moment to stand beside her, lifting his hand to explain. “I forgot to take the ring off, that's all. You're not angry, are you?”
My mother came over and pressed his hand down.
“Leave it on. Give it back after dinner. Your brother's been married three years. A few more hours won't hurt.”
I looked at Nellie.
She avoided my eyes and pulled out a chair for me. “Sit down first.”
During the meal, my father had a waiter bring over a document folder.
“Since Charlie's back, he'll go to Nellie's company as design director. Chris, hand him the Cloudperch project you're running. Brothers help each other out.”
Cloudperch was a project I'd ground through two years to win.
The first draft was rejected nineteen times. For three straight months I slept four hours a night before the client finally signed.
I gripped my glass. “He studied acting. He doesn't know the first thing about architecture.”
Charles's eyes went red on the spot.
“Dad, I told you I didn't want it. Chris put so much into this project. I can't take what's his.”
My father's face darkened. “Take? He puts his name on it as lead architect. Nobody said you stop doing the work.”
My mother pressed me too. “Charlie's only been home three months. He needs something impressive to his name. You've already married so well. You don't have to win at everything.”
I looked at Nellie. “Is that what you think too?”
She set her chopsticks down, unhurried.
“Your foot's hurt. You need rest. Charlie fronts it for now. The actual work is still yours, and I'll pay you the bonus the same as always.”
“He gets the credit, and I do the work?”
“It's just one line of a name.”
“Then why can't the name be mine?”
The room went quiet.
Charles clutched his chest, his face going white by degrees. “Chris, don't be angry, I'll give the project back to you.”
He stood too fast and his body swayed.
Nellie caught him at once.
My mother shoved away the crutch I had propped beside me. “Do you have to keep pushing him?”
I lost my balance and dropped hard back into the chair, my injured right foot knocking against the table leg, the pain so sharp everything went black for a second.
Nellie steadied Charles, and when she turned and saw me, something hesitant crossed her eyes.
Charles gripped her sleeve. “Nellie, I can't breathe.”
She took his arm and hurried him toward the door.
As she passed me, she left only one line behind. “I'm taking him to the hospital. Stop provoking him.”
My father pushed the document across the table to me.
“Sign.”
I picked up the pen.
My mother's face finally softened. “That's more like it. You're the older brother. A little sense never hurt anyone.”
I signed my name on the last page of the transfer agreement, but I didn't hand it to my father.
Instead I turned to the appendix and added a date after the credit-authorization deadline.
Seven days.
Seven days from now was the day Winfield Corp signed the formal contract with the client.
It was also the day I'd hand in my resignation.
My mother reached out to take it. I closed the folder.
Just then, the phone Charles had left on his seat lit up, a hospital reminder popping onto the screen.
【Reminder: first-trimester blood hCG and progesterone follow-up.】
