Chapter 7: Red Dress

Warner and Savannah gave their party on Saturday night, in the ballroom at the Edina club where we had held our own wedding.

Sixty people, a string quartet, and a banner that said Welcome Baby Tilden-Lindqvist in silver letters.

Bernadette had called me on Thursday.

"Come," she said. "Wear something that makes them stare. I want every one of them to see you walk in."

So I wore red.

It was the dress I had bought for our fifth anniversary and Warner had said was too much.

Declan stood in the hotel lobby when I came down, in a black suit and no tie.

He looked at me for a long moment, and then at the floor.

"Too much?" I asked.

"No." He cleared his throat. "Exactly right."

"You're not required to come."

"I know. I'd like to."

He offered his arm, and I took it.

His sleeve was warm, and under it his forearm held very still.

The ballroom went quiet when we came through the door.

I watched the faces turning.

Warner's second cousin, the club treasurer, three of my grandfather's old friends from the board.

They had come to a party and found the wife.

Bernadette crossed the floor to me in a plum silk dress and kissed my cheek, loud enough for the room to hear.

"Darling. You look wonderful."

Warner stood beside the champagne tower with Savannah at his elbow.

He saw me and set his glass down so carefully that it rang.

Savannah wore pale blue, cut loose over her middle, and she smiled at me across the room.

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