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Evelyn lifts her cup, studying him over the rim with that particular blend of curiosity and calculation that feels almost forensic. “You’re not much for small talk, are you?” she muses. “You choose your words too carefully. That’s a lawyer’s tell.”
Theo looks faintly amused. “Former lawyer.”
“Ah,” she says, amused, the sound light but edged. “I suppose so. There’s a method to the way you listen. You weigh everything before you answer.”
He stirs his tea once. “Occupational hazard I can’t seem to quit.”
Evelyn hums. “Teaching isn’t exactly a lateral move from law, which I know we touched on last night. But I can’t help but want to know more about what pushed you?”
He knows where this is going. Knows why she’s asking. She wants to take the edge off his guilt about her sons’ trial, because that’s exactly the type of person Evelyn seems to be.
“I needed something different,” he says simply.
She arches her brow.
He tips his head back. “Fine. I needed something less mind-numbing.”
He hopes that answer is enough to steer her away from where this is headed.
Her eyes spark with a quiet sort of satisfaction. “Some people might think men who leave the law for teaching aren’t running from boredom, but instead running from themselves.”
He almost laughs. Evelyn Mayfair seems exactly the type who enjoys a reclamation project.
And he doesn’t just mean the house.
She’d spend the next hour convincing him he isn’t a failure if he let her.
He knows this kind of conversation—the gentle dissection disguised as empathy—and he has no intention of bleeding out over tea and cookies.
Better to shift the conversation to something that actually matters.
He knows Evelyn wants to feel admired. So he leans on the one tactic that never fails with people like her: flattery.
“I can’t imagine you’re someone who’s usually wrong,” he says, tone even but warm enough to sound sincere. “Most people end up where they are by accident. You don’t strike me as someone who leaves anything to chance. I’d rather believe I chose my path, too.”
She seems pleased, clearly charmed. “A man who takes responsibility for where he stands. Refreshing.”
Theo takes a sip of his tea, watching her over the rim. “I find life tends to go better when you maintain the illusion of control. Though I doubt you’ve ever had to settle for illusion.”
Evelyn’s laugh this time is genuine. Pleased, and just a little indulgent. “You and I are going to get along splendidly.”
He believes her. She enjoys this—being courted through conversation, matched in wit. But under all that polish, he notices something softer. A kind of loneliness. The way her eyes linger a little too long, the way her voice dips between sentences, as if she’s holding on to the company more than the conversation itself.
It’s curious, he thinks, how someone surrounded by so much family can still seem starved for real conversation. So he gives her what she wants. He lets her talk. And as she does, he listens, and takes stock of what she doesn’t say.
Evelyn sets her teacup down with a faint clink, eyes glazing over a bit as they drift toward the window. “You know,” she says, almost absently, “I sometimes forget how old this house really is. How much of our name is carved into its bones.”
Theo follows her gaze to the tall panes of glass, where her reflection shifts in the morning light. Her words are soft, almost tender—nostalgia steeped in loss. She isn’t boasting; she’s remembering. A time when this house was full of life, before it became a monument to everything she’s outlived.
She smooths the napkin in her lap. “The Mayfairs have been here since the early 1800s,” she says. “Long enough for the truth to bend in our favor. People talk about legacy as though it’s earned.” Her eyes lift to his. “It isn’t. It’s inherited. Cultivated. Protected.”
Theo studies her, unsure where this is going. “And truth?” he asks.
Her mouth curves, indecisive. “Truth bends. Presentation decides the shape. If people accept a story long enough, it becomes the truth they cling to. That’s how families like ours stay standing. Until someone decides to look closer.”
Theo is certain that Evelyn Mayfair is someone who’s living with many secrets that aren’t hers to tell.
He watches her for a beat too long. There’s a purpose to her phrasing—a deliberate choice of words—that makes him wonder if she’s speaking only about the family, or about what they’ve buried.
