Chapter 5: The Brunch

"Stay there, Dad," I said into the phone. "We're coming to get you."

Hayes already had his truck keys in his hand.

My father slept that night on the camping mattress by the wood stove, in his rumpled suit, with a wool blanket over him.

Hayes slept in the truck.

At seven a courier knocked on the shed door and handed me a cream envelope.

It was an invitation printed in gold.

The Greenwich Garden Club was holding a luncheon at noon "to welcome the new Mrs. Lathrop."

Constance had signed it herself.

"She wants an audience," Hayes said over my shoulder.

"Good," I said. "So do I."

"It's a trap, Joanna."

"Then it needs a witness."

I took my phone out of my bag and opened the folder named "Taxes."

I had two months of recordings, and I had not listened to most of them.

I sat on the bed with earbuds in for forty minutes.

When I took them out, I had found the file I wanted.

The club dining room had white tablecloths, lemon cake and forty women in pastel jackets.

They all turned when I walked in on Hayes's arm.

Nobody smiled.

Constance rose from the head table with both hands outstretched.

"Joanna, dear. And Hayes. What a surprise to see you both."

"You invited us," I said.

"I meant a pleasant surprise."

She kissed the air beside my cheek.

My father came in behind us in a borrowed jacket.

Constance's eyes flicked to him and away.

We sat.

The women around the table were the same women who had stood and applauded at my engagement party.

They had also watched me play the recording.

Now they watched me with careful, bright faces.

Constance tapped her water glass.

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