Chương 7
A collective breath passed through the guests.
My mother released my elbow.
My father looked at me as if I had overturned the tables.
“Is that true?” he asked.
The photographer lowered his camera but did not turn it off.
I could not answer.
Lois’s voice rose. “Ask him. Ask how much she paid. She probably found him outside a hardware store.”
Miles’s jaw tightened.
That was all.
He did not shout. He did not step toward her. He merely moved between us by half a pace.
“My name,” he said, “is Miles Sterling.”
The name moved through the crowd more slowly than the accusation had.
Gary looked back at his phone.
My father’s lips parted.
Lois shook her head at once. “No.”
Miles looked at her.
“No,” she repeated. “That’s not—you’re not him.”
“Sterling Corporation is my company.”
The balloon beneath the umbrella struck the canvas again.
My mother stared at his boots.
Gary scrolled with one finger. “The photograph online is from eight years ago.”
“I had less gray,” Miles said.
“You don’t look like—” Lois stopped.
“Like what?”
She did not answer.
Uncle Henry, still holding a plate, said softly, “Well, hell.”
Phones appeared throughout the crowd. People searched. People enlarged photographs. People compared the younger, clean-shaven face on their screens to the man standing beside the grill with charcoal on one sleeve.
My father was the first to change his posture.
His shoulders came back. His stomach pulled in. His expression rearranged itself into professional concern.
“Mr. Sterling,” he said.
Miles looked at him. “Miles was fine earlier.”
“There’s obviously been a misunderstanding.”
“No,” Miles said. “There have been several accurate understandings.”
My mother stepped closer. “You must forgive the informality. Serena didn’t tell us.”
“She didn’t know.”
They both turned toward me.
For one terrible second, their shock contained something like pride.
My mother touched my wrist. “You didn’t know?”
“No.”
“Not at all?”
“No.”
Her grip loosened.
Disappointment replaced pride so quickly that I almost laughed.
Lois saw it too.
“Oh, my God,” she said. “You actually hired him.”
My mother’s face hardened. “Serena, how could you?”
The question entered me cleanly. It found every place prepared for it.
I looked at the rented chairs, the photographer, the glasses raised for Lois, the place where my father had laughed. I looked at my mother’s hand still hovering near my wrist, unsure whether touching me helped her.
Miles said my name quietly.
I heard the invitation in it. Not to perform. To choose.
“Yes,” I said.
My father glanced around at the guests. “We’ll discuss this inside.”
“No.”
He blinked. “What?”
“No, we won’t.”
My voice was too soft. Several people leaned closer.
I cleared my throat.
“I hired him,” I said. “I hired a stranger because Mom told me I was not allowed to come alone without embarrassing the family.”
My mother shook her head. “That is not what I said.”
“You said people would be uncomfortable.”
“I said they would ask questions.”
“You said Lois’s weekend couldn’t be overshadowed by my life.”
“This is not the place.”
“You made it the place.”
Someone near the bar whispered my name.
My hands had begun to shake, so I pressed them together.
“I thought bringing anyone would be easier than coming here as myself,” I said. “That part is mine. It was dishonest and reckless, and I’m not proud of it.”
Lois folded her arms. “There. She admits it.”
I looked at her.
“But I didn’t make you lie about your job.”
Her mouth tightened.
“I didn’t put that card in your hand. I didn’t make Mom call me a problem. I didn’t make Dad laugh. I didn’t make anyone treat Miles like a servant because of his clothes.”
“He was helping the caterers,” my mother said.
“You told him people notice roles.”
Her face changed.
She had forgotten I heard.
My father took a step toward me. “You’re upset.”
“I’m clear.”
“Serena, let’s go inside.”
“I’m leaving.”
My mother’s voice dropped. “Do not walk out of your father’s birthday.”
“Then don’t make me.”
The old answer would have come next: We are not making you do anything.
She began it.
“You always—”
“No.”
That one word stopped her more effectively than any explanation I had ever given.
I turned to Miles. “I’m sorry.”
He held out his hand.
Not like a rescuer. Not like a lover. Just a man offering balance to someone whose legs were unreliable.
I took it.
Behind us, Lois said, “What about my job?”
Miles faced her.
The crowd quieted again.
“I don’t make termination decisions at family barbecues,” he said.
Her shoulders lowered a fraction.
“But falsely representing an executive title is serious. Especially if you used it outside this property.”
“I didn’t.”
He looked at the phone in her hand.
She closed the image of the business card.
“Human resources and compliance will review it,” he said. “I’ll recuse myself from the decision because of what happened here.”
“You can tell them it was a joke.”
“I can tell them what I saw.”
“Mr. Sterling—”
“You didn’t know who I was,” he said. “That doesn’t change what you did.”
My mother stepped between them. “She was celebrating. Families exaggerate.”
Miles looked at her for a long moment.
“Then you can explain that Monday.”
He turned back to me.
We walked through the house with dozens of people behind us pretending not to follow.
In the entry hall, I heard my father calling my name. I kept moving.
The front door stood open. Sunlight fell across the floor in a bright rectangle. One of the valets hurried toward the gravel lot, but Miles raised a hand.
“I’ve got it.”
We reached the truck before my father caught up.
“Serena.”
I stopped with my hand on the passenger door.
He stood in the driveway breathing harder than the short distance justified.
“Your mother is upset.”
“I know.”
“Lois is in shock.”
“I know.”
May you like
“This could affect her livelihood.”
“I know.”
