"Clara, has Julian ever mentioned a hotel project called Ashford House?" she asked.
The name made me sit up. Ashford House was a weather-damaged inn on the Georgia coast, beautiful in a neglected way that had always caught my attention. Julian had talked about Westbridge considering an investment there, and I had sketched ideas for the lobby after dinner one night, more because I loved the building than because anyone had hired me. Those sketches were private, exploratory, and not part of an approved Lark & Line proposal.
"A few times," I said. "Why?"
"Because I just received an email from a consultant at Westbridge asking for our final project-fee schedule. She says we've been listed as the exclusive design partner for Ashford House and that our preliminary concept has been included in the investment presentation. She attached three pages of your sketches."
I gripped the edge of the terrace table. "What? I never approved any of that."
"I know. That's why I'm calling. The consultant thinks the agreement is already in progress because Julian told her we'd handle the design package after the wedding. She assumed we'd be available next week for a formal kickoff."
I asked Nina to send me the email and every attachment. The photographs were unmistakable: my pencil drawings of a long window seat facing the sea, an exposed brick fireplace and a courtyard screened by native plants. Someone had cleaned the images, placed them into a Westbridge-branded presentation and added labels that made the concepts sound ready for construction. In a footer beneath the final page, I saw the words "Design development to be delivered by Lark & Line Studio, pending final contract execution."
The words pending final contract execution should have reassured me. At least there was not a forged signature or an agreement that had already bound our company. Yet I could see the danger in how Julian had described our availability and ownership of the work, and I thought of all the times he had said marriage meant building one future together. Apparently he had begun treating my studio as an extension of his job before we had even returned from our wedding.
"Is he allowed to use those drawings?" Nina asked.
"Not without our permission. I didn't even finish the site measurements."
We were both silent for a moment. Then Nina said something that made my stomach drop. "The consultant also mentioned that Sofia is leading the report. She said Sofia told her we'd be signing off during the island trip."
I walked inside and sat at the desk near the bed, where the welcome card remained face down. In my mind, the airport scene rearranged itself again. Sofia hadn't merely been invited to complete a report while we happened to be on vacation. They had planned to use the vacation as a work retreat, and they had assumed I would be available to give their project whatever legitimacy it needed. I remembered Julian saying we had a lot riding on the report, but he had never mentioned that what we had riding on it included my business.