In Sickness and in Lies novel · Chapter 10 of 32

Chapter 10: Happy Birthday, Desmond

Desmond's forty-third birthday dinner was Saturday night at the Lakeshore Club.

I knew about it because the assistant in the grey cardigan texted me the time and the room, with no message at all.

On Friday morning the retired trust officer had read my sixteen pages in forty minutes at her kitchen table.

She told me what they were, in six plain sentences.

I wore the navy dress from my own exhibition.

It was the only good thing I owned that wasn't in a house I couldn't enter.

The private dining room had a chandelier and a long table set for fifty.

Investors, board members, two city aldermen, and the wives.

Cilla sat at Desmond's right in a gold dress, with the bracelet on her wrist.

I stopped in the doorway.

The room noticed me one table at a time.

Desmond looked up from his wine and did not move.

"Gwyneth." He rose, smiling, and his voice was friendly. "You came. Everyone, my wife has been under a great deal of stress. Please, sit."

"I'll stand."

He gave a small, tolerant laugh and sat back down.

A man tapped a glass.

"Speeches," someone called. "Cilla, you start."

Cilla rose with her champagne.

She looked lovely and fond and certain.

"To Des," she said. "My oldest friend. Forty-three years old, and he built Keane Freight out of nothing. No help. No handouts. Just himself and a rented truck."

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