Chapter 17: The Gala

The ballroom had four chandeliers and three hundred donors, and I walked in wearing a green dress I had paid for myself.

Veda held my elbow on one side.

She had washed the clay off her hands for the first time in a week.

She wore a black jumpsuit and the look of a woman entering a boxing ring.

"If anyone asks about your health," she muttered, "tell them you're fine and I'm your bodyguard."

"You're five foot four."

"I'm very dense."

I laughed, and a woman in diamonds turned to look.

I knew the look.

It said poor thing.

Lindsey was already moving through the crowd toward me with her clipboard held against her chest.

Her navy gown fit.

"Katie, you shouldn't be standing," she said, loud enough for the three tables nearest. "The doctor was very clear about crowds."

"Which doctor?"

"We've all been so worried. Margaret did say you were unwell."

"I'm unwell about four years," I said. "The rest of me is fine."

She smiled at the donors and touched my arm.

"You'll want to sit down before the program. I've arranged a few remarks for you at nine."

"Remarks?"

She handed me a cream envelope.

Inside were six cue cards in her small, neat handwriting.

I turned to the first one.

It said, "Read after dessert. Thank you, everyone. I have been very ill."

My stomach went cold, and I read the next one.

"I owe my life to my mother-in-law, who never left my side."

I read the one after that.

"I will not chair the committee again. I am stepping away from all foundation duties, effective tonight, for my health."

I looked up.

"I didn't write this," I said.

"Of course not. We simply don't want you to strain yourself."

Across the room I saw Colin by the wall in his black suit, not close, not far.

He caught my eye.

He didn't move, and I understood that he wasn't going to.

He was letting me.

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