Don't Step Aside, This Photo Needs You In It

I was carrying a tray of champagne when my father told me I had already agreed to sell Vale House. He said it in the east ballroom, beneath the chandelier my mother had spent two years restoring, while a dozen guests raised their glasses to my sister's wedding weekend. My tray tilted. Bubbles crept over the rims. "I didn't agree to anything," I said. Dad's smile held for the guests. "Not here, Maeve." A camera flashed from the ballroom entrance. I turned toward it, but my sister was already waving me into place. "Don't step aside," June called. "This photo needs you in it." For one stupid second, I almost laughed. We had spent the last eight years practicing how not to be in the same picture. Then I saw the man beside her. He wore a slate suit and a silver pin shaped like a compass. I recognized the logo from the folder on Dad's desk that he'd claimed was a catering contract. "Graham Pike," Dad said. "Managing partner at Harborlight Development." The guests looked from him to me, their smiles fading by degrees. I set the tray on a nearby table. "You brought the buyer to June's wedding?" "I brought a potential partner," Dad said. "Who thinks I signed my shares over?" Graham offered his hand. I let it hang there. "Mr. Vale said you'd sent a proxy." "Then Mr. Vale's mistaken." Dad's jaw moved once. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. "This is a private family matter. Don't make a scene." I looked around the ballroom, at the white roses, the hired musicians, and the guests who had just watched the scene begin. "Then you shouldn't have made your private matter part of the wedding program." June crossed the floor and took my elbow. Her fingers pressed into my sleeve. "Please," she whispered. "Not tonight." I hated how quickly those words took me back to being seventeen, packing a bag in the upstairs bedroom while June stood in the hall and asked me not to make things harder for Dad. I had left the house anyway. She had stayed. I softened my voice. "Did you know he planned to announce a sale?" "I knew there was a proposal." She glanced at the guests. "I didn't know he'd say you approved." "I didn't." "I know." She said it with such certainty that I believed her. That was the dangerous part. Dad lifted his glass. The chatter quieted. "Vale House has always been more than a hotel. My wife, Elise, and I built it into a place families could return to. I'm proud to announce that Harborlight will help us carry that tradition forward." The applause started too soon, thin and uncertain. Graham nodded toward a photographer. A woman in a black dress lifted her camera. "We'd love a quick family portrait," he said. "A nice image for the announcement." I looked at June. "You want me in it?" "I want you here," she said. That wasn't the same answer. I let her guide me between her and Dad. Graham stood at the edge of the frame. The photographer asked us to move closer. Dad put a hand on my shoulder. I stepped forward, and his hand fell away. The shutter clicked. "Perfect," Graham said. "That's the one." I walked out before anyone could ask me to take another. ***** I found the sale folder in Dad's office, where I'd once hidden from thunderstorms. The door stood open. I didn't have to search far. A blue binder sat beneath a stack of banquet invoices, and my name appeared on its tab. The first page showed the purchase price. The second listed the owners of Vale House Holdings: Grant Vale, fifty-five percent; June Vale, fifteen; Maeve Vale, fifteen; Elise Vale Family Trust, fifteen. My mother's trust had been divided between us after she died. My shares were mine. I had known that for years. I'd never looked closely at what Dad planned to do with the rest. The binder held a photocopy of a document titled Irrevocable Proxy. Beneath my name sat a signature that resembled mine from a distance. I'd never signed it. A knock came at the door. June stepped in, her wedding dress still hanging from one hand. She'd come up to change for the rehearsal dinner, and she looked tired rather than radiant. "Tell me you didn't sign that," I said. "I didn't." "What?" "Dad said he had your proxy. I never saw this." I tapped the page. "He submitted it to the board." Her gaze stayed on my name. "Could he have copied it from something?" "From what? My high school permission slips?" "I don't know." She sat on the corner of Dad's desk. "He said the offer would let us pay off the renovation loan. It would also fund the wedding." "Did he offer you money?" "He offered to clear my student loans. And the loan on the cottage." The cottage was the small house June had bought near the beach with her fiancé, Ben. The roof had been leaking since winter. I understood why the offer had sounded like rescue. "He told you the sale was already approved," I said. "He told me you were on board." I slid the photocopy toward her. "I wasn't." "I know that now." I almost asked why she hadn't called me before. But I knew the answer. We had not spoken in months unless Dad had placed us on the same group text. Our old silences had grown convenient. "Has he filed this anywhere official?" I asked. "He said the board meeting was Monday. The transfer isn't final until then." "Who's on the board?" "Dad, me, Mr. Rusk, and Ms. Lang. You're not on it." "I have voting shares." "I know." "Then he doesn't get to use my vote without me." June looked up. "If you block the sale, the bank can call the renovation loan. Dad says we'd have to sell anyway, only for less." "Did he show you the loan documents?" "No." "Did he show you the numbers?" She rubbed her thumb along the edge of her ring. "He said the hotel was in trouble." "Those aren't numbers." "I know. But I can't afford to gamble with the cottage. Ben and I are already barely making the mortgage." I remembered the years she had spent smoothing over Dad's moods, then the years she had spent smoothing over mine. I wanted her to be brave for once. I also knew that was an easy thing to want from someone whose bills I wasn't paying. "I'm not asking you to vote with me," I said. "I'm asking you not to pretend I signed something I didn't." "I won't." The office door swung wider. Dad stood there with the photographer behind him. "Graham's ready for the announcement picture," he said. "I'm not." He came in, eyes on the open binder. "You shouldn't be going through confidential documents." "You shouldn't be using my forged signature." "Careful." I pushed the proxy toward him. "You can withdraw it before Monday." For the first time that evening, his expression slipped. It lasted less than a second, but I saw it. "Get dressed," he told June. "The rehearsal dinner's waiting." She rose. At the doorway, she paused beside me. The photographer's camera hung at her side. "Don't leave," June said. "Not until we've talked." I stayed. But when they set up for the next picture downstairs, I stood behind the camera instead of in front of it.