Mara arrived before the sun had finished its work on Beverly Hills. She carried two paper wrapped bouquets, white lilies and soft yellow roses. The street outside Vantara House was still quiet.
Rosa Vega was already inside, moving between the long tables with a clipboard in one hand.
"You are early," Rosa said, looking up. "I told you nine. It is seven forty."
"I know," Mara said. "I could not sleep. Henry deserves flowers that are not wilted by noon."
Rosa laughed. "You brought the good ones. Put them by the podium. Henry will pretend not to care and then take a photo of them when he thinks no one is looking."
Mara set the bouquets down and unwrapped them carefully. "How is the room?"
"Almost ready," Rosa said. "The caterers come at ten. The speech order is on your chair."
"That sounds like Henry," Mara said. She straightened a tablecloth, then stepped back. "Do we have the photo board?"
"In the back," Rosa said. "Jaz helped me hang it last night. Forty years of Henry, from a sketch pad to this room, and she was proud to help."
"She has a good heart, that one," Mara said.
The front door chimed, and Ryan Maddox walked in with his jacket over his arm and his phone in his hand. He stopped when he saw Mara in her simple dark dress and flat shoes, her hair pulled back, no jewelry except a thin gold chain.
"Excuse me," he said, not unkindly, but with the brisk tone of a man giving orders. "Are you with the florist?"
Mara blinked. "No."
"The catering crew, then?" he said. "We need the centerpieces moved to the side tables. The big arrangements go in the middle. Rosa wants it done before ten."
Rosa opened her mouth, but Mara gave a small shake of her head.
"I am just helping out this morning," Mara said evenly.
"Great," Maddox said. "Then you can help me. The podium needs to be closer to the car. Guests should see Henry and the Solstice in the same photo. Move it about two feet to the left."
Mara looked at the podium, then at him. "Two feet to the left puts it in front of the speaker cable. Someone will trip."
Maddox frowned. "I have done a hundred events here. Just move it."
"Or," Mara said, "we could angle it slightly instead. Same photo, no tripping."
He stared at her for a second. "Fine. Angle it. And can you get me a coffee? Black, no sugar."
Rosa stepped forward. "Ryan, I can"
"No, no," Mara said quickly, smiling. "I will get it. I know the machine."
She walked to the back room, where Jaz Moreno was polishing a chrome trim piece. Jaz looked up and grinned.
"Morning, Ms. Winters," Jaz said. "You are early too."
"Morning, Jaz," Mara said.
Mara poured the coffee, black, no sugar, and carried it back out. Maddox took it without looking up from his phone.
"Thanks," he said. "Now, the chairs by the window. We need two more rows. The guest list grew."
"Rosa has the final count," Mara said. "She said the rows we have are enough."
Maddox finally looked at her. "Listen, I appreciate the help, but the chairs go where I say."
Rosa set her clipboard down. "Ryan," she said, "the chairs stay where they are. We counted twice."
Maddox flushed. "I was only trying to help."
"I know," Rosa said. "And now you can help by checking the guest list at the door. The first arrivals come at noon."
He left, muttering about the coffee being lukewarm, though it was not. Mara watched him go, then turned to Rosa.
"You did not have to step in," Mara said.
"Yes, I did," Rosa said. "He talks to everyone that way when he thinks they cannot answer back. Jaz gets the worst of it."
Mara was quiet for a moment. "Tell me later," she said. "First, let us make this room worthy of Henry."
They worked side by side for the next hour. Mara arranged the lilies, Rosa adjusted the lights, and the room slowly turned from a showroom into a place for a farewell.
Henry arrived at ten, carrying a battered sketchbook under his arm. He stopped in the doorway and took in the flowers, the photo board, the podium angled just so.
"Well," he said, his voice thick. "You all went to a lot of trouble."
"Only the best for forty years," Mara said.
Henry smiled.
"Thank you, Mara," he said softly. "For all of it."
She squeezed his arm. "Wait until you hear the speeches," she said. "Then you can thank us properly."
She touched the compass in her pocket and thought of her mother, steady and true, guiding her still today.
Chapter 11: The Apprentice