Chapter 24: Table One

The cake was cut at five, and everyone agreed it was the best part of the day.

Cedric's mother found me beside the dessert table and took both my hands in hers.

"I believed him," she said. "He called me three times. I'm so sorry."

"You were trying to look after your son."

"I should have called you."

"Next time, call me," I said. "We have a long time to get this right."

She laughed and wiped her eyes, and she did not let go of my hands until I promised to bring Annette to Thanksgiving.

At the far end of the hall, Annette was dancing with the board chairman.

He was stiff and apologetic, and his mustache was damp.

"I did not know she'd pull the pocket," he was saying.

"You did not ask the right questions," Annette said, steering him around a pillar. "Left foot."

At seven the lights lowered, and the band leader tapped his microphone for the second and last time that day.

"The bride," he said, "has asked to say a few words."

Hannah climbed up on the low stage in her ivory dress with her shoes off again.

She held the microphone with both hands and looked out over two hundred people.

Table One was directly below her, with its white cloth and its silver place-card holders.

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