Chapter 7: The Gala

On Friday night, six hundred people in black tie sat down to dinner at the Brantley Foundation gala.

I walked in wearing the green dress.

Jack walked in beside me in a tuxedo, and for once nobody asked who he was.

The ballroom went quiet from the doors inward.

Everyone had seen the video from the city hall steps by then.

Carter stood by the head table with a glass in his hand, unshaven again and gray under the eyes.

Margaret stood beside him in pearls, smiling at the room.

Lydia sat at the head table in a sequined gown, under a banner that read OUR YOUTH MENTAL HEALTH AMBASSADOR.

I had read the program in the car.

She chaired three boards that Dunhill money paid for.

"Miss Bannon," Margaret said when I reached her. "How kind of you to come."

"Mrs. Brantley."

"You'll find your table is near the front."

"I'll be at the podium."

"The program doesn't have you speaking."

"It has Dunhill Foundation as the lead sponsor," I said. "Sponsors always say a few words."

She looked at Jack.

He smiled at her pleasantly.

The emcee gave me the microphone after the soup.

I walked up the steps and set my hands on both sides of the podium.

"Good evening," I said. "I'm Iris Bannon, Chair of Dunhill Group and president of its foundation."

A murmur went through the room.

It turned into a wave, then into silence.

"For eleven years we've supported this gala. Tonight I'm ending that support, effective immediately."

Margaret stopped smiling.

"I'm also ending every grant tied to one particular person, and I'd like to explain why."

I took my phone from my clutch.

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