Chapter 21: The Toast

The man in the red jacket read the list again, and his voice shook.

"Mr. and Mrs. Cade Preston," he said. "Last, as the rule states."

Theron's father walked to the center of the floor with a glass in his hand.

"I struck her name on Wednesday," he said, to the whole ballroom, "to see whether she would beg."

"She didn't. She told her family she'd come, and she came."

"A rule is a rule. My father's father began it, and I won't break it for my own convenience."

He looked at me over the glass.

"Mrs. Preston. The screen is yours."

The ballroom was silent.

I walked across the floor in the navy dress, and my heels were the only sound in the room.

I passed my parents' table.

My mother's hand was at her throat.

My father stared at me.

Orin sat beside Shelley with a champagne flute in his fist, and he didn't look at her.

Shelley sat perfectly straight in a gold dress, and she was smiling.

At the foot of the dais, Cade's assistant took my phone without a word.

She plugged it into a cable.

I took the microphone.

My hands weren't shaking.

"Good evening," I said. "Thank you for having me. I'd like to show you how I spent my winter."

Somebody laughed nervously.

The big screen lit up behind me, and the first video began.

I didn't watch it. I watched the room.

A hundred faces tilted up, and then one by one they tilted toward Theron.

A man near the bar whispered the name of the watch before anyone else had.

Theron's aunt set down her glass so hard the stem snapped.

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