Chapter 18: The Intervention

Her mother had died before the wedding, so Lydia's alibi for that night was a lie.

I said it to Sam on the ride home, and again over breakfast, and I still had it in my head on Saturday.

The chairman's niece got married that evening in a glass hall on the lake.

I went because the chairman had asked me in person, and because Marco's cousin had the catering contract and Marco wanted me to see his tarts.

Sam came in a rented suit that fit him badly across the shoulders.

I told him he looked wonderful.

He told me he couldn't breathe in it, which made us both laugh, and for ten minutes it was an ordinary evening.

The tables were set with white roses.

There were no candles, because someone had told the planner about me.

I sat between Sam and an old aunt who patted my hand and asked if I was the girl from the news.

"That's me," I said.

"Good for you," she said, and gave me the last of her bread.

Dylan sat three tables away, alone beside his father, in a black suit.

He hadn't looked at me once.

I noticed every time.

The cake had been cut when Lydia came in.

She wore pale gray silk with a cuff at the wrist.

She walked down the center aisle with her hands folded.

Two people in soft cardigans followed her, a man and a woman, both with clipboards.

Behind them came Dylan's aunt, the chairman's sister, with a tissue already at her eyes.

My stomach dropped.

"Sam," I said.

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