Chapter 9: The Wrong Toast

The photographer moved the empty chairs out of the next picture.

Gregory asked him to keep taking photographs of the couple.

Pippa looked toward the door where Celia had gone.

"I'll talk to her," I said.

My niece held my hand a little longer.

"You don't have to," Pippa told me.

I knew that was true and still wanted to make things easier.

I let go of her hand and stayed where I was.

Miles offered me the coffee he'd been holding.

"It's yours," he said before I could refuse.

"I ordered another for myself."

I took it and drank while it was still hot.

The portrait continued without my supervision.

At the rehearsal supper, Celia came downstairs in a cream jacket.

She sat beside Gregory and asked him to pass the water.

He filled her glass and put it within reach.

They were careful with each other in a way I hadn't noticed before.

Gregory offered her the cushion from his own chair.

She accepted it without the impatient look she'd given me all morning.

He checked that she was comfortable before sitting down.

Pippa and Finlay sat together, picking raisins out of their bread.

They put them on the same little plate.

Miles pulled my chair out from beside theirs.

My name card was still on the table.

He hadn't let anybody move it.

I smiled at him as I sat down.

Celia picked up her wineglass before the main course arrived.

"We should thank the people who've made this possible," she said.

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