Chapter 7: The Toast

I walked up the center aisle of the ballroom with two hundred people watching.

I did not hurry.

I put one foot in front of the other, in my one good black dress, and I did not look at the floor.

My mother had her hand over her mouth.

My father had stopped chewing.

Glenn did not follow me, and I was glad.

This one was mine.

Colin held out the microphone with a gracious smile.

I took it.

"Hello, everyone," I said.

My voice filled the room.

"First, congratulations to Colin and Brooke."

The ballroom made a confused little sound.

"They've been working on this for a long time. Since March, in fact."

Brooke's smile slipped.

"I found them on Thursday night," I said. "Then I was escorted out of the building for a crime I did not commit."

A woman near the front gasped.

"Jean," Colin said, low and warning.

I turned slightly so that the whole room could see his face.

"Colin's mother, I'd like to ask you something," I said. "You're right there in the front row."

His mother froze with a champagne flute at her lips.

She was a small, perfect woman in pearls.

She had once told me that I was a sweet girl and that sweet girls make good assistants.

"Did you know?" I asked.

"This is not the time," she said.

"It's the only time. Did you know about Brooke?"

The silence stretched until it hurt.

Brooke looked at her.

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