Chapter 7: Read Page Four

Mitchell's home office was the one room in that house I had never been allowed to clean.

The code worked on the first try.

Dark wood, a leather chair, a wall of framed magazine covers with his face on them.

On the desk lay a thick folder with yellow tabs sticking out of its edge.

The label said NAPA PACKET.

Beside it stood a silver frame I hadn't seen before.

Two teenagers on a beach, her braid over one shoulder, his arm around her neck.

Odette and Mitchell at nineteen, laughing at whoever held the camera.

I opened the middle drawer and found a velvet ring box.

The lid read *Papa*, in his handwriting, and the slot was empty.

I thought of the heavy gold ring on a chain at Odette's collar.

I took a picture of the box.

I took a picture of the frame.

Then I opened the folder.

Every page had a yellow tab and a blank line for his signature.

*Caterer deposit. Quartet. Valet.*

The fourth page was the guest list, and it ran to two hundred and six names.

Under HOST OF HONOR it said *Rosa Ferrante, 80th birthday.*

Under HOSTESS it said: *Marisa Bradbury (on medical leave, represented by O. Lang).*

I read that line three times.

Marisa Bradbury was on medical leave, and Odette would speak for me at my own grandmother's lunch.

I had not said yes to any of it.

The door opened behind me.

I turned too fast, and the bandages caught on the folder.

Mitchell stood in the doorway with his tie loose and a glass in his hand.

He was alone.

His face did something I wasn't ready for.

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