Chapter 18: Table for Three

The board chair's club had a round table in the back room, with a white cloth and five place cards.

Kirk drove me there and stayed in the truck.

"I'll be right outside," he said. "If you want me, text one letter."

"Which letter?"

"Any."

I went in alone, in a gray dress with a high collar.

Kendall was already seated.

She wore black, no makeup, and her hands lay flat on the cloth on either side of her plate.

She had come, because I had asked the chair to ask her.

She didn't look at me.

The chair sat at the head with his wife on his right, a small, silver-haired woman with a pearl choker and shrewd eyes.

Preston arrived last.

He stopped in the doorway when he saw Kendall.

His face went white.

He sat down beside me and took my hand under the table.

"I got the picture too," he said, so softly that nobody else heard. "The one from the reservoir. From a number I didn't know."

My whole body went cold.

"I looked at it for a long time," he said. "I don't care."

"You don't care."

"What you do before the twenty-sixth is your business. After it, we'll sort out the rest." He squeezed my fingers. "I just need you at the altar."

I took my hand back.

For the first time in my life I understood that there was no bottom to him.

"Miss Delaney," the chair said. "I understand the maid of honor has something to tell us."

"She does."

Kendall lifted her head.

The chair's wife poured water and set down the pitcher.

"I'm told," the chair said, "that you made a scene at the luncheon, Miss Devine, and I'd like to know why before I seat my board for a wedding."