Chapter 8: The Toast

Saturday breakfast was on the lake house terrace, with a white tablecloth and a view of the water.

Eldon had ordered eggs, waffles and champagne at nine in the morning.

I sat between Eli and Zara. Preston sat across from me, gray under his tan.

Eli had slept on the floor and said nothing about it. I had slept badly and said nothing either.

When our eyes met over the coffee, we both looked away at the same time.

Zara stood up and tapped her glass with a spoon.

"I want to say something," she said. "It's the sixth anniversary of the accident this month. Maia, I know it's a hard time of year."

I put my fork down.

"I wanted to toast the man who saved your life," Zara said.

Her eyes were shining.

"Preston carried you out of that burning car. He never talks about it."

"But I think we should say it out loud, for once."

"Zara," Preston said.

"To Preston." She raised her glass. "The bravest man I know."

Eldon raised his glass. The Gouverneurs' housekeeper raised hers. Even the cook in the doorway nodded.

Preston did not lift his glass.

He was looking at the grill behind the cook, where a thin line of smoke rose off a pan of bacon.

His hand was shaking.

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