Chapter 8: Playback

The Rask Foundation dinner was held in the same ballroom, one week after the anniversary.

Odette had not cancelled it.

Cancelling would have meant admitting something had happened.

I went in through the service corridor at eight, in my gray coat, and found the audiovisual technician behind the stage.

He was a young man with a headset, and he knew who I was.

"Mrs. Rask," he said. "I'm sorry, I'm not supposed to take anything from anyone but Mr. Rask's office."

"I know," I said. "I'm still on the foundation's board, and I'm still the CEO's wife. It's in the bylaws."

I held out a small flash drive.

On Sunday night the photographer from the anniversary had sent it to me in an envelope with no return address.

He had been at the doors when I was carried through them.

He had kept shooting video long after he lowered his camera.

"I'd like the slideshow screen for two minutes," I said. "You can tell them it was my idea."

The technician looked at the drive for a while.

"Is it going to hurt anyone?"

"Only the people in it."

He took the drive.

I stood in the wings and listened to a hundred and eighty people eat salmon.

Odette gave her welcome from the podium in a long cream gown.

She said the words "family" and "resilience" more than once.

Lowell stood beside her with a glass in his hand.

Donovan sat at the head table with Summer at his elbow.

When the plates were cleared, the technician dimmed the lights.

The big screen at the back of the stage woke up.

A guest at table nine said, "Oh, is this the tribute?"

It was the anniversary.

The first frame was Odette at the microphone with her glass in the air.

Her own voice came out of the speakers, warm and clear.

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