Chapter 12: The Invitation

We held the meeting after closing, at the long table by the pie case.

Dot sat at the head with her glasses on, a pencil behind each ear.

Seth stood at the grill end with his arms crossed.

Sydney sat beside me with the legal pad.

"Five weeks," Dot said. "Say it plain, Elise. What do you want?"

I turned the planner over in my hands.

"I want the cards back," I said. "Not the paper. The credit. I want the people in that theater to know whose they were."

"Say it on stage?" said Sydney.

"Say it where he's standing."

"Can you do that?" Seth asked.

He did not mean to be unkind.

He meant it kindly, and I heard that, and still it stung.

"Seth, I'm six weeks pregnant. I'm not made of glass."

"I know you're not."

"Then don't ask whether I can."

He unfolded his arms.

"All right," he said. "Then I'll ask what you need."

I smiled at him.

"A dress that doesn't show yet," I said. "And a seat at the front."

Sydney laughed and wiped her eye with her sleeve.

"I can get you a seat," she said. "Third row. I'm in the cast, I get four."

"And the notebook?"

"Bryce keeps it in the studio safe. Stuart copies from your cards at night, and I think he hates it."

"Why would he hate it?"

"Because every card is better than anything he's written since," said Sydney.

I looked at her.

"That isn't a kindness," I said.

"I know. It's just true."

Dot tapped the table.

"All right. The plan is the planner, the recording, and your face. Anything else?"

"A lawyer in the room," I said. "Mine. In case he sues me for reading my own handwriting."

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