Chapter 9: She Couldn't Replace My Relationships

Klingenberg Group's client dinner was held every February at the Queen City Club, in a ballroom with chandeliers and a string quartet.

I had been to eight of them. I had never come as a guest.

"You don't have to come," Kirk said in the car.

"I want to see who they sit next to."

He parked and came around to open my door, and I took his arm for the walk up the steps.

It was the first time I had touched him since the bakery.

Inside, Dylan stood at the front of the room with a champagne flute, greeting people in a dark suit.

Janie stood beside him in a silver dress and a thin gold chain, smiling.

Dad stood at the end of the line, shaking hands.

He saw me, and his face went white.

Then the first client came over.

She was the hospital board chair, a tall woman in pearls, and she walked right past Dylan's outstretched hand.

"Sasha! Darling. I told your brother I'd only renew if you were drawing the new wing."

"I'm not at the firm any more," I said.

"I heard. That's a dreadful mistake on somebody's part." She kissed my cheek.

Behind her came the school district's facilities director and the hotelier from Covington.

Then came a man who had built half the east side.

Every one of them said my name.

Every one of them asked where I was working, and whether I'd take their call.

"My cell hasn't changed," I said, over and over.

Dylan watched it from the front of the room, with his flute held up and his smile fixed.

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