Chapter 7: The Gala

Keir took the card out of my hand and read it in the rain.

"He's sorry," he said. "That's all I can tell you tonight, and every word of it is true."

"Sorry for what?"

"If you ask him, he'll call his lawyers, and you'll be the one who gets hurt." His voice stayed even. "Give me until the wedding."

"I don't take orders from you."

"No." He tucked the card into his coat. "That's why I'm asking."

I looked at the stone.

I looked back at him.

"Porter's mother has a children's hospital gala on Saturday," I said. "I'm on the guest list. Or I was."

"You still are. I made sure of it."

"Then I'm going."

"With Finn."

"Good," Keir said. "Watch Richard. Don't talk to him."

I stood at my father's grave with the rain coming down and wondered what kind of man says thank you to a headstone for nine years.

On Saturday, I walked into the Winslow gala in a red dress on Finn Stroud's arm.

Flashbulbs lit the staircase.

"Smile," Finn muttered. "You're having the best night of your life."

"I'm about to be sick."

"That works too."

Two hundred guests in black tie turned to look.

I saw the Winslow table, and I saw my mother two seats from Richard.

She looked at my dress, then at Finn, and her face did not move at all.

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