At the time, safety seemed close enough.
So I said yes.
His children learned about our engagement two days later.
The oldest, Vivian, was forty-six and served on the board of her father’s company. She arrived at Harrison’s home wearing a white wool coat and an expression usually reserved for contaminated food.
Her brothers, Grant and Lucas, followed her inside.
Grant was polite in the distant way of someone speaking to a hotel employee.
Lucas shook my hand and looked embarrassed by everyone.
Vivian did neither.
She examined my inexpensive dress, my shoes and the engagement ring on my finger.
“So this is the waitress,” she said.
“My name is Claire.”
“I know your name.”
Harrison’s jaw tightened.
“Vivian.”
“What?” she asked innocently. “We’re all thinking it.”
“I’m not,” Lucas said quietly.
She ignored him.
At dinner, Vivian asked whether I had signed a prenuptial agreement.
