The Photographer's Return novel · Chapter 18 of 24

Chapter 18: The Gala

"Then I'm going," I said.

Casey took the phone away from my ear and hung it up for me.

"I'll find a tie," he said.

The gala was in the glass ballroom of a hotel in Menlo Park, at seven on Wednesday night.

I wore the black dress I'd rescued from the Palo Alto closet in July.

Casey wore a borrowed suit and a tie Bean had picked out at the thrift store. It had tiny cameras on it.

"For luck," Bean had said, and made him swear on the Brownie not to change it.

My lawyer met us at the door in navy, with a leather folder under her arm.

The woman with the clipboard looked at my invitation.

Mr. and Mrs. Warner Whitmer.

"Mrs. Whitmer," she said, and smiled, and waved us in.

The room was full of money.

Buyers in cashmere. Brokerage partners. A TV camera, and a reporter from a Bay Area business paper.

Along one wall, twelve easels stood under twelve black velvet cloths.

On the stage, at a glass podium, stood my sister.

She was in a white dress, her hair in a smooth knot, a microphone in her hand.

She saw me before anyone else did.

Her face went perfectly still.

Warner saw me second.

He crossed the room fast, champagne in hand, smiling at everyone he passed.

"Sylvie." He kept his voice low. "This isn't the place."

"You invited me."

"Mailing list error."

"You have a lot of those."

He looked at Casey. At the camera tie.

"And you brought the chauffeur. Cute."

"Evening," Casey said pleasantly. "Nice ballroom."

The lights dimmed.

Mackenzie lifted the microphone.

Her hand shook. She read from a card.

"Welcome, everyone, to the Whitmer Lake & Coast Fall Gala."

Polite applause.

"Please welcome the founder of Whitmer Lake & Coast, Warner Whitmer."

Warner jogged up the steps.

He talked for ten minutes about the lake, and light, and wine on a dock.

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