Chapter 20: The Anniversary Gala

The Lakeshore Ballroom looked exactly as it had on the night I left it.

The same chandeliers hung over the same two hundred guests, and the same pale roses stood on every table.

I walked in on Elias's arm in the green dress, with the gray coat over my shoulders, and the room turned to look.

Phones came up.

I let them.

At the head table Cordelia sat in pale gray silk with her pearls on, and beside her, in a loose white dress, sat Mallory with a round, soft belly.

Mallory did not look at me.

She had left Imogen's guest room without a word, and she had texted me once from a number I didn't know.

It said: Trust me. Saturday.

Her hand lay flat on the dress, and her fingers were shaking.

Winston sat at the far end of the table with his napkin untouched.

He caught my eye and gave me a small, steady nod, which I did not return.

The dinner passed in a haze of other people's conversation.

I ate nothing.

Elias's knee stayed against mine under the cloth, and Imogen, two seats down, kept her reading glasses on her nose and a folder on her lap.

At ten o'clock Cordelia rose and tapped her glass.

"Friends," she said, and the room fell silent.

She was good at this.

She thanked the donors, and she thanked the board, and she thanked the children whose lives the Foundation had changed.

Then she turned toward our table, and her smile grew.

"There is one more person I would like to honor tonight," she said. "A woman who has been very much in the news. Leona Hartwell."

Scattered, uncertain applause.

"Leona has had a difficult few months. She married quickly, and I think we all understood why."

A little laughter, from the back.

"And now, I'm told, she is expecting. A baby." Cordelia raised her glass. "To Leona's sad little pregnancy."

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