“Exactly.”
“That she won’t have to struggle.”
“Precisely.”
I nodded slowly, letting the moment settle. “That’s why you’ve been sizing me up all through lunch. Trying to work out whether the Warren family is good enough for the Bradfords.”
The table went completely silent. Patricia’s hand froze mid-air, her wine glass suspended.
“I wouldn’t put it quite so bluntly,” Richard said carefully.
“How would you put it?”
He cleared his throat, buying himself a second. “I think it’s only natural to want to understand the family your child is marrying into. Their values. Their resources. Their standing.”
“Their standing,” I repeated slowly. “And you’ve already determined we don’t have much of it.”
Jessica looked mortified, her cheeks coloring. “Mr. Warren, my parents didn’t mean—”
“It’s all right, Jessica.” I turned my gaze back to Richard. “You’re right to be concerned about standing. About resources. About whether Michael can provide the life your daughter deserves.”
Michael looked like he wanted the floor of that elegant dining room to open up and swallow him whole.
But I kept going.
“Tell me, Richard. How’s the Riverside Development project coming along?”
Richard blinked, caught entirely off guard. “I’m sorry?”
“Riverside Development. Your firm’s flagship project. Twenty million in renovation costs for that property portfolio out in Cambridge.”
His face went noticeably pale. “How do you know about that?”
“And the Hartford acquisition fell through last year, didn’t it, because you couldn’t secure the bridge financing in time. Put your firm in a fairly tight spot.”
Richard’s hand tightened visibly around his butter knife. “Who are you?”
I reached into the pocket of my worn leather jacket — the same jacket they’d all been quietly sneering at for the better part of an hour — and pulled out my wallet. From inside it I withdrew a slightly worn business card and slid it face-up across the white tablecloth toward him.
Richard picked it up. I watched his eyes move slowly across the text, watched them widen as the words settled in.
“Thomas K. Warren,” he read aloud, his voice quieter now. “Senior managing partner. Warren Capital Management.”
The color drained further from Patricia’s face. Christopher’s smirk disappeared entirely, replaced by something closer to alarm.
“Warren Capital,” Richard said again, almost to himself. “You’re — but Warren Capital is one of the largest private equity firms in New England.”
