Chapter 18: Two Hundred Guests

The gala was held in the Drummond ballroom, the one with the glass wall over the city.

Two hundred people stood in it holding champagne.

I walked in at seven in the green dress, on Conroy's arm, with his chair humming beside my hip.

Poppy came in behind us in dark blue, with the old nurse on her arm.

A Weatherford driver walked at each of their shoulders.

The room turned to look.

Adele crossed the floor to us in silver, with a smile for the whole ballroom.

"My darlings," she said. "You came."

She kissed Poppy on both cheeks.

She did not kiss me.

"I've kept the best seats," she said, and her fingers went up to her collar and found nothing there.

She stopped, and covered it by smoothing her pearls.

"Mother," I said.

"Careful, dear."

"Where is Howard?"

"At the head table. He's about to make a toast."

He was.

Howard stood at the microphone on the little stage with his glass up and the whole board behind him.

"Friends," he said, in the big warm voice. "Twenty-four years ago, a mistake was made in a hospital."

A murmur went through the room.

"Tonight I get to tell you that a family was whole again this week. I have a daughter who came home."

He put his hand out toward Poppy.

"To Poppy," he said. "And to the poor family who kept her safe for us."

Everyone lifted a glass.

I handed mine to Conroy.

I walked to the stage through the middle of the ballroom.

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