Chapter 7: Paid in Full

Godfrey's birthday lunch had thirty guests, and Constance stood up with a glass before the salad.

"Before we eat, a little family news," she said.

The room turned toward her.

"This week, the Prescott Family Foundation did something we are very proud of."

I put down my fork.

"It cleared a hospital bill that has weighed on one dear family for years."

She looked straight down the table at me, and her eyes shone.

"Emme's mother, Marcy, would have wanted her family free. So now they are."

Everyone clapped.

Frank had been invited.

He sat three chairs down in his funeral jacket, with his cap on his knee and his eyes full.

[Emotional pressure detected, public setting. Expected response: tears, a hug, a speech of thanks.]

[If Host refuses, Host is cold in front of thirty people.]

I stood up and clapped too.

"Thank you," I said. "That was kind. May I ask one question?"

"Of course, sweetheart."

"How did you know the account number?"

The clapping thinned.

"Pardon?"

"The hospital doesn't give account numbers to foundations."

"The patient's family has to supply it. Dad didn't call you. So who did?"

Constance smiled with her whole face.

"Godfrey's accountant looks after these things."

"Dad, did you give the accountant the number?"

My father shook his head slowly. "I didn't talk to any accountant."

"Godfrey?" said Constance.

Godfrey, at the head of the table, held his glass in both hands.

"Frank mentioned it to me at the breakfast," he said. "I think. I believe he said something like that."

My father opened his mouth.

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