Chapter 19: The Gala

I went out onto my sister's porch in my coat and bare feet.

Timothy stayed where he was, at the end of the drive, thirty feet away.

"Go inside," he said. "It's cold."

"You're standing in my sister's yard at midnight."

"I know."

"Why?"

"I wanted to see the house you're sleeping in." He put his hands in his coat. "I'm not asking you home."

"Then what are you asking?"

"One evening."

"The gala."

"Calvin told me you'll be at table one." His voice was very even. "Wear something you like."

"Anything else?"

"Sit where she puts you. Don't leave until I've said what I'm going to say."

"What are you going to say?"

"You'll hear it with everyone else."

He looked at my face a moment longer, then got in the car and drove away.

I stood on the porch until my feet went numb.

The atrium at Eastbrook had been hung with white lights and tall arrangements of white roses.

A quartet played in the corner. Three hundred donors in black tie moved between the tables with glasses in their hands.

I wore the green dress, the one my sister had told me to wear to the first dinner.

It had been let out at the waist, and a small curve showed under it now.

Calvin pulled out my chair at table one.

Eleanor sat on my other side in cream silk, with her pearls and her straight back.

"Rosemary, darling," she said, and kissed the air near my cheek. "You look well. The couch must agree with you."

"It does."

"I'm so glad. Is the boy better?"

"He's fine."

"How wonderful." She laid her napkin across her knee. "I do hope you'll enjoy the announcement."

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