Chapter Forty One - A Celebration With Conditions

The Baldwin siblings trudged up the driveway, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows over the pavement. The school day clung to their skin—creased uniforms, scuffed shoes, tired eyes. Harper had her headphones looped around her neck, fingers idly tapping against the strap of her rucksack. Jackson kicked a stone down the path, and Aura dragged her feet slightly, her sketchbook tucked beneath one arm.

Then, as they rounded the corner toward the back garden, they stopped in their tracks.

The garden had been transformed. Multicoloured balloons floated on white ribbons tied to the apple trees, streamers shimmered in the breeze, and the lawn was dotted with guests from the neighbourhood—mothers in linen blouses, fathers balancing beers, and a smattering of cousins and family friends chatting by the makeshift drinks table. At the centre, a long table was adorned with gold-trimmed napkins, glittering banners, and a cake shaped like a stack of books. A sign read: Welcome to Glendwood, Harriet!

Harriet blinked, taking in the scene. Her eyes widened, lips parting in astonishment.

"Oh my god." she whispered. "This is for me?"

Her mother beamed and rushed forward, arms outstretched. "Of course it is! Our Glenwood girl deserves a proper celebration."

Harriet let herself be wrapped in the warm embrace, her eyes suddenly stinging with emotion. Her father, usually reserved, clapped a hand on her shoulder and smiled with quiet pride. Even their grandmother, always the sharpest critic, leaned in to kiss Harriet on both cheeks, her pearl earrings catching the sunlight.

"You're making the Baldwin name proud." she said. "Just like I did when I walked those halls."

Harriet's heart swelled. As always, she wasn't the peacemaker or the go-between. She was the centre, the reason for the gathering. She turned to her siblings, almost expecting to see them share in her happiness.

But Harper stood at the edge of the patio, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Her eyes skimmed over the decorations like they were garish rather than celebratory.

Cece, arriving late and effortlessly stylish in oversized sunglasses and a sleek cream trench coat, breezed past Harper and Jackson without so much as a nod. She made a beeline for Harriet, her smile sharp as ever.

"You've really done it, Hattie." Cece said, wrapping Harriet in a brief but purposeful hug. "Glenwood is no joke. It's a real achievement. Finally, someone in this family is doing something that matters."

She turned slightly, casting a glance at the rest of the siblings, her gaze lingering just a second too long on Harper before sliding past her.

"Cody!" Cece called, waving him over. "You're aiming for Glenwood too, right? You'll follow in Harriet's footsteps in no time."

Cody looked unsure, brushing back his curls. "Uh, maybe. Still figuring it out."

Harper's scoff was soft but sharp, like the snap of dry twigs underfoot.

"Let's not pretend this is about hard work." she said, her voice cutting through the pleasant hum of party chatter. "Harriet didn't get in because of her grades. She was almost failing maths until she paid that guy to do her homework."

The conversation froze. Even the wind seemed to hush.

Harriet flinched as though slapped, her fingers tightening around the paper plate she held.

"She got in because Mom went there. And Gran. That's how legacy works, right?" Harper shrugged. "It's not some underdog story. Anyone can get into Glenwood with the right name or enough money. Doesn't mean we need a damn parade in the garden."

Their mum's smile dimmed. A few party guests turned their heads, awkwardness rippling like a dropped stone in water.

Harriet looked down at her shoes, cheeks burning. She wanted to disappear—but she said nothing. Words stuck in her throat. Don't make it worse, she thought. Smile through it. Be agreeable.

Cece took a step forward, her heels clicking sharply against the patio stones.

"Oh dear." she said, voice low with disdain. "Is that jealousy, Harper? Or just your usual bitter little truth-teller act?"

Harper's jaw clenched. "It's honesty."

Cece's lips curled into a half-smile that carried no warmth. "Right. Because you're such an expert in honesty. From someone who can't stay in school for more than a semester and is currently playing house with that—what's his name? Blake?"

Harper's face flushed with fury. "That's none of your business."

"Well, neither is Harriet's admission." Cece snapped. "But you just had to make this about you."

Jackson muttered something under his breath and glanced at Aura, who was now staring at the ground, trembling slightly. Her sketchbook had slipped from her grasp.

"Alright, that's enough, mom-" Camila interjected, stepping forward with a placating hand between them. "Let's just... not do this. Not today. It's Harriet's celebration."

Their mother didn't even look at her. "Camila, hush. This isn't your concern."

Camila stood frozen for a moment, blinking. Her shoulders dropped as she backed away, lips pressed together in quiet humiliation.

"I hate this." Aura whispered, voice cracking. Her eyes were glassy, wide.

Cody noticed instantly. He stepped to her side, placing an arm around her protectively.

"Come on." he said gently. "Go upstairs. Jackson, go with her."

Jackson nodded and moved with his sister, ushering Aura carefully toward the house. Behind them, the argument continued in raised voices and clipped syllables, a storm brewing under bunting and fairy lights.

Harriet stood in the middle of the garden, surrounded by banners and cakes with her name on them. But her smile had faded. She stared at the Glendwood crest piped in sugar icing and felt a twist in her stomach. For a moment, the party—the recognition, the applause—felt like a spotlight she no longer wanted to stand in.

Harper didn't storm off. That would've given them too much satisfaction—too much to talk about over wine later, behind closed doors. Instead, she slipped quietly through the side gate while everyone's eyes were on Harriet again, now smiling in that grateful, slightly stunned way she always did when praise came dressed as pressure.

The sun had begun to dip, casting long orange streaks over the quiet street as Harper walked quickly, her boots scuffing the pavement. She pulled her sweater hood up, even though it wasn't cold. The garden's laughter and clinking glasses faded with each step until all she could hear was the thud of her own heartbeat and the occasional bird calling from the rooftops.

She didn't check her phone. She didn't need to.

Blake's place was only a fifteen-minute walk away, but it felt like a different world—a quieter one, free from glittering banners and sideways glances. Harper exhaled as she walked, tension unwinding from her ribs. At least with Blake, she could just be.

Cody stood near the drinks table, half-listening to a conversation between two uncles arguing about market shares. He wasn't really paying attention—just waiting for a moment to breathe when his grandfather shuffled up beside him.

The old man's suit was too big, hanging off his frame like it had belonged to someone else. His grey eyes were cloudy, but bright with recognition—or something close to it.

"Cody," he said, leaning in as if they shared a secret. "There you are, Cody. I've been looking for you."

Cody smiled warmly. "Hey, Grandpa."

His grandfather patted his shoulder with a shaky hand. "Have you met Emily Taggert's granddaughter? She's here somewhere. Lovely girl. Comes from a good family. I told her you'd find her."

Cody's smile faltered slightly. "I think I've met her. Blonde?"

"Yes! That's the one!" his grandfather said, beaming. "Tall, sharp as a tack. She's studying law, I believe. Very driven. You'd be perfect together."

Cody chuckled awkwardly. "I'm actually with someone, Grandad. Her name's Millie. We've been dating for years now."

His grandfather blinked slowly, as if processing the words in slow motion. "Still?"

"Yes." Cody said, a bit firmer. "I really love her."

A pause. "Well, these things come and go. But family reputation, now that lasts. Go say hello to Emily's girl. Just five minutes, eh?"

Cody clenched his jaw. "I'll think about it."

He stepped away, heart thudding—not in anger, but in frustration. In being unheard.

He glanced toward the far end of the garden and saw Harriet standing near the trellis, where their grandmother had stationed herself like a queen on a throne. Beside Harriet stood a tall boy—perhaps nineteen or twenty—with sandy hair neatly parted and a blazer that looked like it cost more than Cody's entire wardrobe.

"Harriet, this is Sebastian Langdon." their grandmother said proudly. "The Langdons are old friends. Very established family. He'll be at Glenwood in the autumn. History and Politics, I believe."

"Correct." Sebastian said, extending his hand. "It's nice to see you again. We met years ago at that charity polo event, remember?"

Harriet shook his hand lightly. "Vaguely." she lied.

"He comes from impeccable stock." her grandmother added in a hushed but clearly audible voice. Almost planning the wedding in her mind already. "And he's single. Isn't that lovely?"

Harriet's smile was automatic, her cheeks aching already. "Very."

Sebastian talked, smooth and practiced, about rowing societies and dinners at the Glenwood Union, about family connections and sailing summers in Tuscany. Harriet nodded, laughed softly, made polite sounds. But inside, she felt like someone had pressed a glass dome over her head and was watching her like a display—Glenwood Girl. Model Daughter. Social Asset.

She caught Cody's eye briefly across the garden. He raised his eyebrows as if to ask: You okay? She gave the tiniest nod.

But as Sebastian continued talking, her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

Because beneath the fairy lights and the clink of champagne flutes, beneath the careful compliments and legacy connections, Harriet realised something:

This party wasn't really for her.

It was for the version of her they wanted her to be.