Chapter 13: The Plan

Phoebe came at noon with two grocery bags and a duffel, and she hugged me until my ribs creaked.

"You look fed," she said into my hair.

"Mitchell feeds me."

"I'll bet he does." She let go and looked at the dock window, the stairs and the stool. "So this is the boathouse."

"This is the boathouse."

"It's nicer than my first kitchen."

An envelope had come at ten, left on the porch rail by a courier who didn't knock.

Mitchell had set it on the table without opening it, and now he slid it across to me.

It held nine pages of names, stapled, with "Final" typed in the corner.

I read down the first page with my finger.

"The senator who funds the benefit," I said. "The managing partner of the law firm."

"The one who stamped the complaint at 7:12?" Phoebe asked.

"The same firm. And my clinic director, and the whole foundation board."

"That's two hundred people."

"Two hundred and twelve," Mitchell said. "All of them in one place at eight o'clock."

Lila sat at the end of the table in my borrowed cardigan, with her hands around a mug.

She hadn't said a word since Phoebe walked in.

"So here's what we do," I said. "Bennett wants me at the terrace rail at eight, in the white dress, for his toast. I give him exactly that."

"And then?" Phoebe asked.

"And then Lila stands at the rail where she went in, and she tells them."

Lila's mug rattled against the table.

"In front of everyone?"

"Judith said to do it in front of every one of them," I said. "She meant it."

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