Chapter 10: Lunch

The Foundation's planning lunch was held in a private room at the Union Club, under a chandelier.

There were eight trustees, a florist's portfolio, and a printed menu with my mother-in-law's initials in the corner.

I walked in on Saturday at noon wearing the one black dress that still fit.

I walked in alone, because Thad had a flat tire and a good attitude.

Sybil sat at the head of the table in her chair, with Juliette on her right and Max on her left.

Every head turned.

"Aubrey, dear," Sybil said. "How lovely. Everyone, this is my daughter-in-law. She's been unwell for some time, so we're all being very kind."

I stopped behind an empty chair.

A trustee in a bow tie, whom I had met nine times, gave me a pitying smile.

"I'm not unwell," I said. "I'm Aubrey Linford. I'm the cellist."

The room went still.

"Of course you are," Sybil said gently.

"Thad Teasdale is the director of the youth orchestra," I said. "I'll be the soloist for The Swan on the night of the gala. It's in your program."

"Is it?" said a trustee.

"It's on page four," said Juliette, and smiled at me without meaning it.

I sat down in the empty chair.

It was across from Max, and four seats down from his mother.

The lunch began.

They discussed centerpieces and the seating chart for the Marwick, and the quartet that would play on the stairs.

Sybil kept up a stream of kind comments about me, none of which I could answer.

"Aubrey did love her hobbies," she said.

"Aubrey's so devoted."

"Aubrey, dear, you've lost weight."

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