Chương 2
Then at me.
She understood.
I lifted my wineglass.
I didn't smile broadly.
I didn't need to.
Garnet followed her stare.
His mouth opened.
"Did you—"
Amber seized his wrist.
"Not here."
A bridesmaid rushed over with a shawl.
The MC began talking much too loudly about an amusing honeymoon story while the bandleader signaled for music.
Guests turned away with the exaggerated politeness people use when they're desperate to look back.
Hazel leaned toward me.
"What happened?"
"Something stuck to her dress."
"How?"
"I imagine she'll figure it out."
Hazel's eyes narrowed.
She knew me too well, but before she could ask anything else, Amber disappeared toward the bridal suite with three bridesmaids and Garnet behind her.
My phone vibrated less than a minute later.
DAD.
I let it ring.
It rang again.
Hazel looked at the screen.
"Aren't you going to answer?"
"No."
That was when she stopped looking confused and began looking worried.
"Martin, what happened before I came in here?"
I took a drink of water.
Across the ballroom, two servers were removing Amber's chair.
"Tell me."
"Later."
"Don't do that."
Her voice remained low.
"You do that thing where you decide you're protecting everybody and then nobody gets to know what game they're playing."
The accuracy irritated me.
"Why after?"
"Because I want you to enjoy your son's wedding."
Hazel stared toward the bridal-suite doors.
"Am I enjoying it?"
I had no answer for that.
Garnet appeared ten minutes later.
He walked directly toward me.
His tuxedo jacket was unbuttoned and his face had the bright, damp look he got when anger outran his ability to manage it.
"Dad, outside."
"No."
Several relatives pretended not to hear.
Garnet bent closer.
"You switched those chairs."
Hazel went still beside me.
I put down my glass.
"You should lower your voice."
"Did you switch them?"
"Yes."
Hazel turned toward me.
Garnet stared as if my admission offended him more than the act.
"You destroyed her wedding dress."
"I moved a chair."
"You knew what would happen."
"So did you."
His face changed.
Hazel looked from him to me.
"What does that mean?"
Garnet rubbed his forehead.
"Dad's making this into something."
"What happened?"
Nobody answered.
Hazel's voice sharpened.
"Garnet."
He had always responded to that tone.
Even at thirty-seven, his shoulders moved slightly.
"It was supposed to be a joke."
Hazel blinked.
"What was?"
Garnet looked at me.
I could have rescued him.
For years, that had been the family arrangement.
Garnet created a mess, Hazel softened it, and I paid whatever remained.
I said nothing.
His eyes hardened.
"Amber put a little glue on your chair."
Hazel stared at him.
"Mine?"
"It wasn't supposed to hurt you."
"Then what was supposed to happen?"
"It was stupid."
"What was supposed to happen, Garnet?"
He looked toward the bridal-suite doors.
"You'd stand up during the speeches and your dress would stick."
Hazel's hand moved to the pearls at her throat.
It was a tiny movement.
That hurt more than shouting would have.
"And you knew?"
Garnet exhaled.
"Mom, come on."
"You knew?"
"Yes, but—"
Hazel stood.
Her chair slid backward.
She looked at it before looking at her son.
"You were watching the door for her."
Garnet's silence answered.
Hazel picked up her purse.
"I'm going home."
"Mom."
"No."
It wasn't dramatic.
She didn't cry.
She didn't slap him or make a speech.
She simply walked away from the table.
I followed her.
Behind us, Garnet called my name.
I kept walking.
Outside Hawthorne Hall, valet attendants moved between rows of cars while distant music thumped through the stone walls.
Hazel stopped beneath the porte cochere.
"You knew."
"Yes."
"And you let me sit there without telling me."
"I changed the chair."
"That isn't what I said."
Her eyes were wet now.
"You decided what I could handle."
"I wanted to protect you."
"From knowing what my son thinks is funny?"
I reached for her hand.
She moved it away.
That surprised me.
"You protected yourself, Martin."
"From what?"
"From having to watch me find out."
She wiped beneath one eye with the side of her finger.
"There's a difference."
A valet approached with our car key and slowed when he sensed the argument.
I tipped him, and he escaped gratefully.
Hazel got into the passenger seat.
We drove home mostly in silence.
Halfway there, she asked me to stop at a gas station.
"For what?"
"Coffee."
"It's eleven thirty."
"I know what time it is."
I pulled in.
She bought the terrible machine cappuccino she liked on road trips and a packet of powdered donuts.
When she returned, she handed me one.
I took it.
We ate powdered donuts in a parked car while our son's wedding continued twelve miles away.
My phone accumulated eleven missed calls.
Eight were from Garnet.
Three were from Amber.
At home, Hazel removed her pearls and placed them carefully in their little gray box.
Then she sat on the edge of the bed.
"Was this the first time?"
I knew what she meant.
"No."
She looked up.
I told her about the remarks I'd heard over the previous year.
Not every one.
Enough.
I told her about Amber calling her country.
About the comment concerning the pearls.
About Garnet laughing.
Hazel listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she stared at the carpet.
"You should have told me."
"I know."
"No, you don't."
She stood and walked into the bathroom.
The door didn't slam.
That somehow made it worse.
At 12:43 a.m., Garnet finally sent a text instead of calling.
You humiliated my wife on the biggest day of her life.
A second message followed.
I hope you're proud of yourself.
I read both twice.
Then I opened the locked drawer in my home office.
Inside were folders Garnet had never seen.
His office lease was in one.
The deed to his house was represented in another.
May you like
Trust documents occupied a third.
There was also a file I had begun three months earlier after my attorney asked a question I had avoided answering for too long.
