Chapter 6: The Gala

I turned the phone face down on the blanket.

Then I turned it back over and looked at the coat again.

He'd given it back to her.

I hated that it mattered.

I got up, took the gala list off my desk and learned every name on it before I slept.

On the eighteenth of October, the ballroom of the old downtown hotel was gold from floor to ceiling.

Three hundred guests, a jazz band, a silent auction for the children's homes in the state.

Including the one in Cranston with the rabbit stain on the ceiling.

I stood at Anne's left elbow in the green silk dress with her diamond studs in my ears.

Every time someone came at us with their hand out, I murmured in her ear.

"Gray beard, red tie. Cardiologist. Gave fifty thousand last year and wants you to mention it."

"Darling," Anne said warmly, taking his hand. "We were just talking about your gift."

He glowed.

"White dress," I murmured to the next one. "Pledged twenty in March and hasn't paid. She's the one with the boat."

"Ah," Anne whispered back without moving her lips. "The boat." Anne turned with her best smile. "How was the summer on the water?"

When the woman left, Anne said, "You're frightening. Where were you ten years ago?"

"Cranston," I said.

She looked at me sideways, and something passed over her face that I couldn't name.

At eight, Thatcher came in with my sister on his arm.

Dena was in pale pink chiffon, strapless, with her hair pinned up in curls.

Two thousand dollars looks very good on the right girl.

She stopped in the middle of the floor so people would see her stop.

Then she saw me, and her eyes went over the green silk and the earrings, and her smile went thin.

Anne's own smile didn't move a millimeter.

"Thatcher," she said when they reached us. "I see you've brought a guest."

"Mom. You remember Dena."

"I remember everything," Anne said pleasantly. "Enjoy the evening."

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