Chapter 12: Ten Years

Nobody in that room said a word.

Two hundred women sat with their spoons in the air and watched Chloe Danvers limp up the center aisle.

Dillon held her elbow.

He would not look at me.

"Please don't stop on my account," Chloe said, to the room. "I only wanted to be near family today. It's the anniversary."

The manager made a small noise.

"The anniversary of what, dear?" said a woman at table two.

"Of my parents."

A sigh went around the tables.

I looked at the calendar on my phone.

October eleventh.

I felt it land in my chest.

Chloe reached table four, where Sylvia sat with her napkin in her fist, and kissed the air next to her cheek.

"Aunt Sylvia."

"Chloe." Sylvia's voice was thin. "Sit down."

"I can't sit next to the kitchen. My foot."

"Move her," Sylvia said to the manager.

"Mrs. Lowry, the seating is by the event director."

"Then move the director."

"I'd like to hear what Mrs. Stroud thinks," Chloe said sweetly.

Every head turned to me at the lectern.

I held the microphone and said nothing.

Chloe smiled at the room.

"I'm sorry if anyone thinks I did something wrong," she said.

"I only ever needed someone. Dillon was there when my parents died. He's been there ever since."

She lowered her eyes.

"A girl needs a person."

Sylvia's chair scraped back.

"Stop it," she said.

"Aunt Sylvia?"

"Stop it, Chloe."

Sylvia was on her feet, with her hands flat on the table.

The wine she had drunk through the soup had reached her cheeks, and her hair had come loose on one side.

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