Chapter 6: The Ledger

The next morning I took the cut veil back to the house in Lake Forest, with Bea beside me carrying two empty suitcases.

The front door stood open.

Bancroft's car was gone.

From the dining room, I heard women laughing over china.

Three of the wives from the anniversary dinner sat at my table, drinking my coffee out of my cups.

Plates of pastry sat between them.

Nobody got up.

"Daphne," the oldest one said. "We were just talking about you."

"I'm sure you were."

I laid the box on the table and took the lid off.

The ribbons of lace slid out onto the white cloth.

"My mother's veil," I said. "Bancroft cut it up last night and left it on a man's doorstep."

The youngest wife put her hand to her mouth.

"He wouldn't," the oldest said.

"Which of you knew about the bet?"

No one answered.

"I'll make it easier," I said. "Anyone whose husband paid in, put your hand flat on my table."

I looked at each of them in turn.

The youngest wife's hand went down first, then the next.

The oldest wife set her cup down.

"It was a joke," she said. "Boys being boys, at a wedding. Nobody thought it would last ten years."

"It lasted ten years because you all kept paying into it."

"Daphne."

"Which one of you laughed first, at the dress?"

The wife who had filmed me on Fenner Street was looking at her lap.

"I did," she said, very quietly.

"Thank you."

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