Chapter 6: Sunday Brunch

"Then why did you leave?" I said.

Gabe put his bag on the counter and took his time answering.

"Because I wanted to tell you something about the man you were marrying, and I had no proof and no right."

"What did you want to tell me?"

"That he's the kind of person who lets somebody else carry things for him."

It was not the whole truth, and I let it stand.

I had a bigger problem than the brother who watched me at my wedding.

"Diane has brunch every Sunday," I said. "At the Arlington Club, with the foundation donors. Carlton told me I was never invited."

"Today is Sunday."

"Then we'll be late and starving."

The Arlington Club had white tablecloths and a hostess who knew every member's name.

She did not know mine.

I gave it anyway, and I said I was joining the Weatherby party, and she led us through a dining room full of tall windows and low voices.

Diane sat at the head of a long table with eight people around it.

I knew three of them.

They were donors who had shaken my hand at last year's gala and asked about my work with the families on the oncology floor.

Carlton sat at his mother's left in a blue blazer.

Jessa sat at her right, with her feet up on a second chair and a cashmere blanket over her knees.

Teagan had propped her phone against the water pitcher, and the little red light was on.

All of them looked up at once.

"Good morning," I said. "I hope I'm not late."

Diane's smile held, and nothing else about her face did.

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