Chapter 12: Rehearsal Eve

I did not go to the rehearsal dinner.

I went to the hotel bar instead and sat at the far end with a club soda.

From there I could see the corridor to the private dining room.

Annette had offered to come.

I told her to stay home and eat something that wasn't toast.

At eight o'clock, a pair of cream heels stopped beside my stool.

"Joanna," Cynthia said. "I hoped I'd find you."

"You didn't look very hard."

"I looked in the only place you'd be."

She sat down without asking and ordered a glass of white wine.

She had changed for the dinner into a dark green dress.

For the first time since the ballroom, she looked tired.

"I'm not here to fight," she said.

"That's what I told Hannah."

"Did it work?"

"No."

The bartender set down her glass and moved to the other end.

Cynthia turned it by the stem.

"I'd like to offer you something," she said.

"I'm listening."

"A clean divorce. No lawyers, no scene."

"Go on."

"Russell keeps the company. You keep the house on Maple, and he'd add four hundred thousand dollars."

She watched me.

"You stay Hannah's mother in every way that matters. You come to Sunday dinners. She calls you Mom."

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