I stopped, my fingers resting against the cold wallpaper of the hallway.
“We discussed this three years ago, Margaret,” Garrett said, his voice flat.
“Things are different now,” she said, her voice rising slightly before she brought it back down to a whisper. “The paperwork needs to reflect the actual family structure, and you know it. We cannot have foreign elements complicating the trust.”
“I am not changing a single line,” Garrett said.
I stood frozen, wondering why they were arguing so intensely about the wedding guest list or the seating chart for the reception. Perhaps they wanted to limit the invitations to immediate family, or perhaps they were worried about the costs of a caterer from the city.
“Please, just look at the draft Mr. Whitfield sent over,” Margaret pleaded. “He said we need to sign the amendments before the end of the month.”
“No,” Garrett said. “My mind is made up on this, Margaret, and I do not want to hear another word about it tonight.”
