Chapter 14: The Gala

My father's old house in Richmond had a ballroom with a gold ceiling, and Edgar had filled it with three hundred people.

A string quartet played on the landing.

On every table stood a card with my mother's name and a photograph of a smiling child.

I stood in the doorway in a long dark green dress, with Harlan on one side of me and the trustee on the other.

Behind us stood four men from the Fitzhugh board, and behind them two people in plain jackets who had not given their names to anyone.

Nobody looked at us yet.

Then a woman near the door turned to say something to her husband, and stopped with her mouth open.

The quiet moved across the room faster than I could walk.

On the staircase, Edgar was lifting a glass.

He wore a black tie and his warm public smile, and Joanne stood below him in pearls.

Bree stood at the bottom of the stairs beside her fiancé, in white silk, and she saw me first.

Her glass slid out of her fingers and broke on the marble.

Edgar followed her eyes.

For one moment his face was empty.

Then the smile came back, wider than ever.

"Our girl!" he said, in the voice he used for guests. "Friends, this is my daughter Wynne, who has been so unwell. We were so worried."

He came down the stairs with his arms out.

I let him come halfway.

"Don't," I said, loud enough for the quartet to hear.

The music broke off.

I walked to the landing, past him, and took the microphone from its stand.

"Good evening," I said. "My name is Wynne Fitzhugh. The woman this gala is named for was my mother."

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