His breathing was all right. He wasn’t shaking. He could handle this.

Stepping into the kitchen proper, he was reminded how large it was. At once he noticed the steel of the modern appliances. An upgrade that made sense. Lit candles hung from thin wire, floating in every window. Twenty-foot ceilings full of skylights. The rich red of the cherry wood floor, polished like new. The chefs and waiters continued prepping, hardly acknowledging he was there. Bamboo serving trays lined the enormous island in the center, waiting to be filled.

He still knew the floor plan perfectly. Every hall, step, arch, room, closet, pantry, and deck. The view from each of the 164 windows. Another reason he came in through the kitchen: he wanted to see the spot. If he looked through the window, directly in front of the main sink and across a small meadow, he could see the exact patch of forest where they had stood, young, excited, naïve, the first time he brought her here. How old had he been? Twenty-eight? That made her twenty-six. He looked out toward the trees; the grove of Aspens had grown much taller.

“Why are you in the kitchen, Henry?” Claudine asked from the doorway. His brief moment of tranquility was over. She took in what he was wearing. Initially he thought she was about to compliment him. “What are you wearing? I thought I laid out the green jacket and bow tie?” She didn’t even try to mask her disdain.

“You did? I didn’t see it. This is the turtleneck you got me last year.”

This was just like her, to cut him down right when he was starting to feel better.

“At least take the glasses off.”

“I’d like to see. I’m wearing the glasses.”

“Everyone will be in suits, Henry,” she said, ping-ponging between passive putdowns.

“Doubtful, Claudine. The Alpine brothers don’t own them. Besides, there’s a blizzard.”

No part of him wanted to argue with her. There wasn’t much time before guests would be arriving, and he wasn’t going to spend it getting worked up. He would ignore her. The impatience in her voice was suffocating. He held tight to his secret, telling himself that he just had to get through the night. Just keep wearing that fake smile. Trying it out, he smiled so hard his cheeks hurt. She stared at him blankly.

Maybe he needed a bigger change than he thought. Maybe they were broken. The gap too wide. Maybe quitting the business and leaving town wouldn’t be enough. An uneasiness clenched his torso, tightening like a corset.

“Henry, when we’re showing Zara the house, be articulate. Don’t mumble your words. Diction is important.”

Interesting, she was crueler than usual. This was normally when she sucked up, played him like one of her pawns. Relied on him to help make a sale. Usually he liked it. Questions flooded him.