Chapter 7: Brunch

Lawrence had a back door, and I used it in yesterday's red dress and his gray sweater.

Teddy was waiting in a borrowed car at the bottom of the service road with his window down and his sunglasses on.

"Walk of shame," he said. "Do you want a coffee or a lecture?"

"Neither."

"Great. I brought both."

By eight o'clock the photographs were online.

There was one of me getting out of Lawrence's car at his gate, taken from a long way off.

There was another of his hand on my back at the benefit.

The headline was sixteen words long and used the word "bankrupt" twice.

BANKRUPT HEIRESS TRADES UP: LOCKRIDGE DAUGHTER MOVES IN WITH LENDER AFTER ENGAGEMENT COLLAPSES.

My father had it on the kitchen table, folded in quarters, with his reading glasses on top.

He did not look up when I came in.

"Dad."

"Your brother says you were with Mr. Kerrigan."

"I was."

"Is it true, what they say he does?"

"I don't know what they say he does."

My father took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"I'm not angry," he said. "I want you to know that. I'm fifty-nine years old, and I have never once told you who to love."

"I know."

"I'm only afraid you did it because of me."

That hurt more than anything the paper could say.

I knelt beside his chair and took his hand.

"I did it because I wanted to," I said. "Nobody else was in that room."

He studied my face for a long moment.

"Then hold your head up," he said gruffly. "Come on. We're going out."

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