My Father Went to Prison for Their Money, So I Married Their Heir novel · Chapter 9 of 32

Chapter 9: The Luncheon

Clarice held her Sunday luncheon the way other families held funerals, with a guest list that had been the same for thirty years.

Twenty people sat down at the long table in the garden room.

There were two retired judges, a bishop's widow, three board couples.

A cousin of the family who had never been introduced to me by name.

Beau came down late, in a clean white shirt, with his jaw tight and his eyes on me.

He took the chair at my elbow without a word.

I had not slept.

I had the exhibit list folded into my bra, with the words B. Ravenel, intern burning a hole in my ribs.

I smiled at the bishop's widow and passed the rolls.

Winston waited for the shrimp.

He stood up at the head of the table with his glass of tea in his hand.

The whole room turned to him as it had every Sunday for thirty years.

"Mother," he said, bowing to Clarice. "Friends. I have a piece of family news, and since there are no secrets at this table, I'd like to share it."

My stomach turned over once and went still.

"My son has married," said Winston.

A pleased murmur went down the table.

"Some of you have heard it. The rest of you have probably seen it on the evening news." He smiled, gently, with his head tilted. "Beau's wife is Sabra Braswell."

He let the name sit in the air.

The bishop's widow put down her fork.

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