Chapter 20: The Live

Twelve hundred people stood up when my father walked out.

He wore a navy suit and a small flag pin, and he held both hands up to quiet the applause.

I was in the front row, in the middle seat.

Two seats down, the woman from Hearth sat with her leather folder on her knees.

She had told no one she was coming.

"Welcome," my father said, "to the Fair Table Live."

The big screen behind him lit up with a slow-motion montage of the family at dinner.

It was a good montage.

I knew who had edited it, and it was not Ronan.

Dad sat on the sofa between my mother and Corrine.

Colm took the armchair, with his phone in his lap and his eyes on his shoes.

"Tonight," Dad said, "we do what we do best. We show you what a fair family looks like."

He talked for thirty minutes.

He did a bit about the dishwasher vote that made the whole room laugh.

He did a bit about a brother who wanted a motorcycle.

Then he did a long, soft, sorrowful minute about a daughter who had been hurt, who had been misled, whose family still left a seat for her.

He looked straight at me.

"Nessa," he said into the microphone. "Would you stand?"

The spotlight swung across the aisle and landed on my face.

I stood.

"There she is," my father said. "Our middle child."

The crowd gave a warm, sympathetic groan.

"Nessa, honey, I'd like to ask the family to vote on a motion to reconcile," he said. "All in favor of bringing our daughter back to the table."

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