Chapter 18: The Board

Eleanor's house on Beacon Hill had a dining room that sat twenty-four.

On Friday night it held every person who had ever laughed at me.

The five husbands sat on one side, and the five wives sat opposite them.

Between them were the eleven members of the foundation board, in dark suits, with folders in front of them.

Halfway down the long side stood Solène's chair, with her name card still in front of it.

Eleanor sat at the head, and she had put me beside her.

"You will sit at my right hand," she had said, at the door. "Preston can have the foot."

My husband sat at the far end, by himself.

He had shaved. He looked ten years older than he had a week ago.

Rémy was not at the table.

He stood with his back to the sideboard in a borrowed jacket, with his hands folded.

Solène came in last, on her mother's arm.

Her mother was a small, handsome woman in black, with a rope of pearls.

Solène wore cream silk again, and a smile.

She saw me at Eleanor's right hand.

The smile held. It was an impressive thing to watch.

"Eleanor," she said warmly. "What a beautiful evening for a family dinner."

"It is a board meeting, Solène," said Eleanor. "Sit."

Solène sat.

Eleanor waited until the soup had been served and taken away untouched. Then she stood, and the room went still.

"This foundation was started eleven years ago with my husband's money," she said.

"It gives French lessons to children whose families cannot pay."

She looked down the table.

"It has paid for nine hundred children to learn a second language, at no cost to them or to their parents."

"Solène has directed it since the beginning."

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