“You know what this is?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Then why does it have your name on it?”
Claire stood beside me without speaking.
I took the microphone Vanessa had been using and placed it on the table.
“This isn’t a conversation for six hundred people,” I said. “Ethan, would you come with me?”
Vanessa immediately reached for his arm.
“Don’t listen to her. She’s trying to turn you against me.”
I looked at my new daughter-in-law.
“Vanessa, I haven’t said anything about what the email means. You’re welcome to explain it yourself.”
She released Ethan’s arm.
A young woman from the wedding-planning team approached us.
“Mrs. Caldwell, there’s a private sitting room beside the ballroom. Would you like me to take you there?”
“Yes, please.”
Ethan picked up the leather folder.
His expression had changed from anger to bewilderment.
“Mom, did you buy us Willow Point?”
“No, sweetheart.”
“Then what did you transfer?”
I took a breath.
“I transferred ownership of Willow Point into a trust established for your benefit. The deed was executed, delivered to the trustee, and electronically recorded this morning.”
Ethan stared.
“Willow Point? The house on the lake?”
“Yes.”
He sat down on the nearest chair.
It was an understandable reaction.
Willow Point wasn’t a modest cottage.
It was a restored waterfront property overlooking one of the Finger Lakes in upstate New York, with four bedrooms, a private dock, and nearly six acres of land.
I’d owned it personally for nineteen years.
The property was free of debt and worth approximately $1.8 million according to the valuation we’d obtained for planning purposes.
