Chapter 18: The Receiving Line

The Fire Season Dinner was held in the old Auburn grange hall.

Beck's people had hung it with white lights and blue banners.

Four hundred chairs faced a low stage.

On the stage stood a lectern, a screen and a banner that said HOLLENBECK AIR RESCUE: NOBODY LEFT BEHIND.

I read it twice from the doorway.

Beck and Phyllis stood in the receiving line at the entrance, shaking hands.

Phyllis wore the cream cardigan, and she did not look at me once.

"Smile, Vic," Beck said, and a photographer's flash went off.

I smiled for it.

A donor in a silver bolo tie took my hand in both of his.

"I'm so sorry about your grandmother," he said.

"She's been very strong," Beck said. "She's like family."

"I am family," I said.

The donor laughed uncertainly and moved on.

The state's inspector sat at table two, a gray-haired man in a plain jacket with a lanyard.

He looked up when I came in, and then at his water glass.

I had the memory card in my clutch, and I could feel its weight with every step.

Jude was at table nine with the crew.

He wore a dark suit I had never seen, and he stood up when I came near.

The crew chief stood up next to him, and then the rest of the table, one chair scrape at a time.

Beck saw it from the receiving line.

I watched his smile stay exactly where it was.

"Sit," I told them. "Please. You'll make him nervous."

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