Chapter 18: Not Dead

The lawyer held the folder out to me with both hands.

"Take your time, Ms. Gallivan."

"I don't need it."

I didn't touch the deed.

"That building stands on my grandmother's money, and it's mine whether Constance signs it or not."

"You're not getting it by selling her something that isn't mine to sell."

I looked at Rafe.

He hadn't said a word.

He was standing two steps below me, with his hands in his jacket pockets, waiting.

"I'm not abstaining," he said to the lawyer.

"Mr. Aldane, think about what you're giving up."

"I have. Tell her I'll see her at breakfast."

The lawyer closed the folder and went down the steps.

The black car drove away, and the bakery owner, who had been watching through the window, gave me a thumbs-up.

Constance held her donor breakfast at nine the next morning on the Foundation's top floor.

It was a glass room with a view down Fifth Avenue, and sixty people sat at round tables eating eggs.

I had been to this breakfast five years running.

I had always sat at the table nearest the kitchen.

This time I walked in through the double doors beside Rafe, in the navy blouse, with my pin cushion on my wrist.

The room went quiet in rings.

Constance stood at the podium in her cream suit.

She did not drop a beat.

"Good morning, everyone. Some of you have heard some very upsetting news this week."

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