Chapter 15: Gwendolyn's Smile

"Turn that off," said Gwendolyn.

She said it pleasantly, to the man at the sound desk.

He did not turn it off.

"Anyone can make a picture of a text," she said to the room, and spread her hands.

"Anyone with a computer and a grudge."

A man in the third row, a heavy man with a donor's ribbon on his lapel, cleared his throat.

"Gwen, that's your phone number at the top."

"My number is on a hundred invitations, dear."

"It says you're in pearls."

"I'm always in pearls." She gave a little laugh, and a few people laughed with her, uncertainly.

"Lena has been through a terrible time. I'm afraid she isn't herself."

"I am exactly myself," I said into the microphone.

"Darling."

"You took my mother's pearls off my neck in the bridal suite and put them in your purse. Then you wore them to the reception."

"For the photographer," said Gwendolyn.

"The one you paid two thousand dollars to follow me."

"I have never paid a photographer a dollar over the contract."

The side door at the back of the hall banged open.

The photographer stood in it, in his black jacket, with a camera bag on his shoulder.

Hallie was behind him in her volunteer apron, pushing him in by the elbow.

He was gray in the face.

Two hundred people turned around to look at him.

"I'm the photographer," he said. His voice cracked, and he said it again, louder. "I'm the one she texted."

"Young man," said Gwendolyn.

"The envelope had two thousand dollars in it, and she wrote my name on the front. It's in my car in a coffee can."

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