“You think buying your way into this place makes you one of them?”
“No,” I said. “Owning it does.”
Her mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
That was new.
Charles cleared his throat gently. “Mrs. Anderson, Ms. Courtney, this table was reserved by Ms. Anderson for a private business dinner. You interrupted it.”
Courtney looked down at the table for the first time.
At the folder beside my plate.
At the two empty chairs across from me.
At the discreet name cards.
One read: Thomas Vail, Board Chair.
The other: Rebecca Sloan, Hospitality Counsel.
Courtney’s expression shifted.
Not confusion anymore.
Recognition.
“You’re meeting with the board?” she asked.
“I already did.”
My mother’s head turned slowly toward Charles.
“What does that mean?”
Charles did not answer.
I did.
“It means the board voted this afternoon. Briar Glen is being restructured. The old management contract has been terminated. Several vendor relationships are under review. The club is no longer available for private family manipulation.”
Courtney’s eyes narrowed.
“Private family manipulation?”
I smiled.
“Interesting phrase to take personally.”