Isaac shrugged. “True, but maybe he’s grown up in the last few years. People change.”
“Doubt it,” I said. “Leopards don’t change their spots, and Bancrofts don’t change their fundamental nature.”
Even as I said it, I wondered if I was talking about Austin or myself. Was I capable of changing? Of choosing something different than what I’d always been?
The thought was both terrifying and oddly appealing.
When Armand and Kathy returned with dessert, the conversation shifted to safer topics. Holiday plans, business updates, Mina’s adjustment to motherhood. Normal family dinner conversation that felt surreal given what I was planning to do in less than three weeks.
Later, as I was preparing to leave for my own apartment, Dad pulled me aside.
“I’m proud of the work you’ve done on this project, Kent,” he said. “You’ve shown real maturity and focus. This could be the beginning of you taking on more significant responsibilities within the family business.”
The approval I’d been craving my entire adult life should have felt satisfying. Instead, it just made the weight in my chest heavier.
“Thanks, Dad.”
“Don’t let me down,” he added, his hand on my shoulder. “This deal is important for more than just the money. It’s about proving that the Bancroft name still carries weight, that we can identify opportunity where others see only problems.”
I nodded and made the appropriate responses, but as I drove back to my penthouse, all I could think about was Sylvie’s face when she asked if I had to leave to get the offer.
In less than three weeks, I was going to have to look her in the eye and ask her to sign papers that would destroy everything she’d ever cared about.
And the worst part was, I was actually going to do it.
CHAPTER 33
SYLVIE
Sunday dinner at my parents’ house was a tradition I had cherished since childhood, but tonight it felt different. More precious, somehow, as we all gathered around the same dining table where I’d eaten countless meals growing up.
I didn’t think it was just me that felt the change in the air. We all knew the inevitable was coming but none of us really wanted to say it. That would make it all real. Denial was so much easier to deal with. Denial gave us a little more time to live in the fantasy that everything would work out.
“It smells good in here,” I said.
“Thanks,” Mom said. “Dinner is ready. We’ll be eating in about ten minutes.”
Mom had outdone herself with the spread. It was just another sign. She wasn’t going to admit it, but I knew exactly what was happening.
She had made a hearty chili that filled the house with the smell of cumin. She even made fresh cornbread. Stacy was working on a crisp salad with vegetables from what remained of her winter garden. It all looked amazing.
“Can I help?” I asked.
“Can you check on my hoodlums?” Stacy asked. “They’re being just a little too quiet.”
“Absolutely.”
I walked into the den and found them being very quiet indeed. They were flipping through an old photo album. My heart clenched. The album was one my mother had put together years ago. Photos there were more than a hundred years old and had been carefully preserved and placed inside. She had taken the time to caption every picture with the names of the people in them.
Most were all our ancestors. It was her way of preserving history. It was something the Northwoods had always done, which was why we all knew who our great-great-great grandparents were. It was an education unto itself. We all grew up on the stories of how the lodge got started. How Northwood in general got started.
“Hey guys,” I said.
They both looked up.
“Hi, Aunt Sylvie.” Alder grinned.
“You guys ready to eat? You can help me set the table.”
