I do as she requests, smoothing my dress as she pours the tea, her movements both graceful and deliberate.
“Have you been enjoying your time in New York?” she asks, settling across from me.
I take a careful sip before nodding. “I have,” I reply honestly. “It’s been…different from what I’m used to. But in a good way.”
Renée studies me with the kind of knowing that only a mother possesses. “And are you nervous for tonight?”
I let out a quiet laugh. “A little.”
Her lips curve as though she expected that answer. “You have nothing to worry about,” she assures me. “Nathaniel will be byyour side the entire evening, I’m certain. He wouldn’t dream of letting you feel out of place.”
Something in her tone makes me pause, like she can already see what I’m only beginning to grasp—that Nathaniel doesn’t know how to exist without me close.
“Now,” Renée continues, setting her teacup aside. “Before the evening officially begins, I wanted to give you something. An heirloom of the Caldwell family.”
She reaches into the side table drawer and retrieves a small, elegantly wrapped box. She extends it toward me, and I hesitate before accepting it. The weight of it in my palm feels heavier than it should.
“Go on,” she encourages.
Carefully, I pull the ribbon loose and unfold the paper. Inside, nestled in a velvet-lined box, rests a pair of pearl earrings—lustrous and impossibly elegant, the kind that belong in portraits and locked jewelry cases.
I inhale sharply.
“Mrs. Caldwell,” I manage, my fingers barely grazing the pearls. “I… I can’t accept these. They’re part of your family’s legacy.”
Renée’s smile deepens, resolute. “And now, you’re part of it too.”
I lift my gaze to hers, absorbing the magnitude of what she’s offering.
She sighs, her expression turning wistful. “These belonged to me when I was younger. They were a gift from my mother-in-law when I married Charles.” She traces the rim of her teacup absently. “I was younger than you when I first stepped into this world, uncertain of my place. These were meant to be a reminder—that I belonged. That I had been chosen, in a way.”
She looks at me then. “And now, I am passing them to you.”
Something twists in my chest. Gratitude, yes, but also the faintest edge of unease, because it feels less like a gift and more like a welcome into a world I still don’t quite understand.
“Mrs. Caldwell,” I whisper, struggling to find my footing.
“Renée,” she corrects gently.
I swallow, nodding. “Renée,” I try again. “This means…more than I can say.”
She smiles, as if satisfied with my response, but then her expression shifts, the weight of something unsaid settling between us.
“I wanted to tell you,” she begins, “that I see the effect you’ve had on my son.”
I still.
“I’ve spent the last few years watching Nathaniel build walls,” she continues, a faraway look in her eyes. “Walls so high I thought no one would ever reach him again.” Her voice softens. “But then you came along.”
There’s a heaviness in her tone, as though each word carries years of regret and longing.
She hesitates only briefly before exhaling, as if bracing herself.
“I made mistakes with him,” she admits, her voice raw with emotion. “When Alexander died, I…” She closes her eyes briefly, shaking her head. “I was not the mother Nathaniel needed. I neglected him in ways I will never be able to take back. And by the time I came back to myself, it was too late. He had already learned to stop needing me.”
She blinks against the moisture in her eyes.
“I abandoned him when he needed me most,” she confesses remorsefully. “And when I tried to reach him again, it was too late. I don’t think he’s ever truly forgiven me.”
