Chapter 14: Woman of the Year

Susannah's POV

Pathlight's name was printed in gold on the gala program, under the words Presenting Sponsor.

Esther had asked for that sponsorship herself last spring.

I had paid forty thousand dollars for it from my marketing budget, and she had thanked me on cream stationery.

I walked into the Wexford ballroom at seven with the old cook on my arm.

She wore her good black dress and carried a handbag with a brass clasp.

She had refused the car, the coat check and the champagne.

"Water," she said. "I'm here to work."

Daniel followed us in a tuxedo, with his hands clasped behind him and his face perfectly grave.

Four hundred guests turned to look at the woman with the paper plate.

At table four, the small gray-haired woman lifted two gloved fingers to me.

The hostess found Pathlight on her list and seated us at the table nearest the stage.

At the head table, Esther sat in navy silk with her pearls on and Brodie at her right.

On her left sat the man with the heavy watch.

He lifted his glass to me, and the smile on his face was not the one he had worn at the Chamber lunch.

"There's your buyer," Daniel murmured.

"I see him."

After dessert, the lights went down for the tribute film.

A voice read over the slides: "Esther Kittredge came to Wexford as a young bride and has given this club thirty-six years of grace."

Esther cutting a ribbon.

Esther with a casserole.

Esther at the tree lighting, in pearls and a camel coat.

The room applauded, and she inclined her head to it.

The gray-haired woman at table four sat on the tribute committee.

In the coat room an hour earlier she had handed me the slide file, and I had handed her a scan of the cook's photograph.

The last slide came up.

It was square and orange with age.

A girl of twenty-two stood by a kitchen sink in a gray dress and a white apron, with a dish towel on her arm.

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