Chapter 4: The Fellowship

The doors opened on a lobby full of people.

Benedict let go of my wrist before the first one stepped in.

He smoothed his tie and said, "Good work today, Ms. Trowbridge," in a voice a stranger could have heard.

My legs shook all the way to the street.

I did not sleep that night either.

At nine the next morning an invitation arrived at the brownstone, hand-delivered, on cream card.

The Ellingwood Foundation Spring Brunch. The Four Seasons. Noon.

Under it, in Miriam's looping hand, was a line to me.

We would so love for you to be there. A little announcement.

"Don't go," Bea said on the phone.

"It says announcement."

"That's why."

"If I don't go, they'll tell everyone I was too scared," I said. "I'm going in the Marchetti dress."

"You're wearing her dress to her mother's party?"

"It fits me better than it ever fit her."

Bea breathed out a long, resigned breath.

"I'm coming," she said. "I'll be the one holding the fork like a weapon."

The ballroom held two hundred women in pastel suits and a string quartet.

A banner over the stage read: Lifting Others Up.

Camryn waved from the head table.

She had a new look on her face, quick and bright, the look of someone who had decided to win the day.

I sat between Bea and a donor who smelled of lilies.

At half past one, Miriam took the microphone.

"Friends," she said. "Every year, the foundation gives one gift that changes a life."

A screen behind her lit up.

It showed a photo of me.

I recognized it. It was from my dorm ID, three years old, my hair a mess.

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