“I can do it,” I said, though my hands were cold.

“Leave Emma with Mrs. Gable in the laundry room,” Margaret said. “She will keep her quiet.”

I smoothed my hair and put on my fresh black uniform.

When I descended the stairs, the dining room was transformed.

Bolts of silk and velvet swatches were scattered across the long mahogany table.

Vanessa was sitting at the head, a massive leather binder open in front of her.

Two wedding planners in dark suits stood beside her, nodding at everything she said.

Julian sat at the other end, looking at a file on his phone, seemingly detached.

“Ah, there she is,” Vanessa said, not looking up from her binder.

“Set the table with the Chelsea porcelain, Claire. Let’s see if you know the layout.”

I walked to the sideboard where the heavy wooden cases of china were kept.

I opened the first box, the scent of cedar and old velvet rising from it.

I began placing the plates, my fingers steady despite the tension in the room.

“Not like that,” Vanessa snapped suddenly.

I stopped, holding a gold-rimmed teacup.