Chapter 22: Open House

The Delacourt house on Field Point Road glowed from the gate to the roof.

There were white lights in every tree, and a carved wreath on the door the size of a cartwheel.

Inside, the foyer rose two stories to a chandelier, and a spruce stood in the middle of the floor with silver bells all over it.

There were two hundred guests in the house, and the sound of them was a low, bright, nervous hum.

We came in at eight, four of us side by side.

My father went first, with Teddy at his elbow.

I came next, in the black gown, with my chin up.

Lawrence walked half a step behind me, in a dark suit, and every head near the door turned to watch him.

Someone whispered his name, and someone else put down a glass.

He looked at the foyer.

I saw him see the staircase and the marble floor.

I saw him find the place by the third step.

A woman in a white dress had once stood there with a drink in her hand.

His face did not change.

I took his hand, once, hard, and let it go.

Regina stood under the chandelier in scarlet silk.

She had put on rouge, and her hair was perfect, but her throat was bare.

Her eyes moved over us.

"Gerald," she said brightly. "Ainsley. How wonderful that you could all come."

"You sent a printed invitation," I said.

"And you were kind enough to answer it."

She turned to the room and lifted her glass.

The hum stopped.

"Friends," she said. "Thank you for coming to our little Christmas party."

"There has been so much unpleasantness this autumn, and I am a woman who believes in new beginnings."

A polite ripple.

"So I have an announcement. My son and Ainsley Lockridge will be married on the fifth of December, exactly as planned."

"The church is booked, the flowers are ordered, and the whole town is invited."

Nobody clapped.

A silence like a held breath went through the room, and she kept smiling into it.

"Preston, darling," she said. "Come and stand with your fiancée."

"No, Mother."

Preston stood at the foot of the staircase.

He wore the navy blazer, and his hair was combed.

He looked like someone who had decided to jump and had not yet left the ground.

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