Chapter 20: Her Turn

Every head in the room turned toward the door.

Whitney walked in with her hands empty and her shoulders back.

She did not look at me.

She walked straight to the head of the table and stopped in front of Wesley's father.

"Give me the paper," she said.

"Miss Delamotte, you are unwell."

"Give it to me."

He didn't.

She reached across the table and took it out of his hand.

She held it up so the whole board could see the bottom of the page.

"That's my name," she said. "I've never written an S that way in my life."

A banker leaned forward to look.

"Last night a lawyer read me this in the kitchen," Whitney said. "I said no."

She looked at the board.

"He said I had no choice. At midnight I walked out."

"She's hysterical," Wesley said.

"I'm not." Her voice shook, and she let it. "I'm a liar, and I know it."

She wiped her face.

"I lied about being pregnant, and I lied to her for ten years. I'm not here to ask anyone to forgive me."

"Then why are you here?" the chairman asked.

"Because it's true," Whitney said. "All of it."

The chairman sat down slowly.

"Go on."

Whitney turned to face the table.

"The Marguerite goes out for the sunset. Wesley stands at the stern with his wife. I stand behind them."

Her hands were shaking.

"Before they get to the rail, I put the second ring in the cockpit locker. He told me to. He told me the first time, too."

"The first time," the chairman said.

"Three years ago. Tilda." Whitney took a breath. "I was twenty-five. I was his girlfriend, and she didn't know."

"What did he tell you?" the chairman asked.

"That it was only a fright. That she'd climb out by herself."

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