Chapter 12: Oakmont

The dress was green, and it belonged to Noah's mother.

She had taken it in at the waist herself on Thursday night, with pins in her mouth.

"You're going to look like a woman who owns the building," she said.

On Saturday, April fourth, I stood in front of Oakmont Country Club with Noah in a jacket that was one size too big for him.

"You look like a person who's about to rob the place," he said.

"I feel like it."

"Do you want me to wait in the truck?"

"I want you at my side."

He offered me his arm, stiffly.

The ballroom had a chandelier the size of a car.

There were round tables with white cloths and an ice sculpture of two swans.

I counted about a hundred and twenty people.

Mom spotted us from across the room.

She was in navy blue with pearls, and she crossed the floor with her hands out and her smile on.

"Chloe! You came!"

She kissed the air near my cheek.

In my ear she whispered, "Don't embarrass your brother."

"Hello, Mom."

"I put you at table fourteen. It's a lovely spot. Very close to the buffet."

Table fourteen was beside the swinging doors to the kitchen.

It had a wobbly leg and a view of a rolling cart of dirty plates.

The other seats held a cousin I barely knew and three of the caterer's friends.

"Of course," I said.

"Be a good girl," Mom said, and she left in a swirl of perfume.

Noah pulled out my chair.

"I'll say this for your mother," he said. "She's consistent."

At the head table, under a banner that said CONGRATULATIONS, I saw the whole family on display.

Chase sat in a navy suit beside his fiancée, a pretty, tidy woman of twenty-three with a diamond on her hand and a strained smile.

Her father sat on her other side.

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