The heavy oak doors swung open.
Both Reginald and Cassandra turned simultaneously, their eyes snapping toward the entrance with the same tightly coiled hope... the hope of people who have been waiting for good news long enough that they've started fearing it won't come.
It didn't.
Arthur Vanderbilt, the second brother, slipped into the room and closed the doors behind him, and one look at his face told them everything before he opened his mouth.
The confident businessman he performed in public boardrooms and family gatherings was gone entirely. His tie hung loose around his collar.
His jacket was creased as though he'd been gripping his own lapels. His forehead carried a sheen of perspiration that had nothing to do with the weather, and his eyes moved around the room in the restless, darting way of a man looking for somewhere safe to land his gaze and finding nothing.
The hope in Reginald's chest cooled, hardening instantly into lead.
