The sitting room of the Rochefort residence was quieter than most places where business conversations happened. That was the point. The large windows along the south wall overlooked the gardens, where the evening light had begun to settle into a muted gold across the lawn. The room itself carried the calm order of a private home rather than the rigid atmosphere of an office.
A low table sat between two long sofas. A tray of tea had been placed there earlier, untouched.
Wendy Collins sat on one side of the table with a slim leather portfolio resting on her lap. Across from her sat Arianne. Franz occupied the armchair beside the window, one ankle resting loosely across his knee. Daryll stood rather than sit, pacing slowly once before finally stopping near the back of the sofa with his arms folded. Gio remained near the side table, where he had placed the estate documents they had brought back earlier that afternoon.
