“We have your photograph on our mantel.”
I remembered a community dinner.
“My photograph?”
Ethan nodded.
“You received a community service award afterward.”
I remembered a community dinner.
Barely.
“The photo is framed with a little brass plate underneath it.”
Janice smiled through her tears.
“The photo is framed with a little brass plate underneath it.”
She looked at Lauren.
“MARGARET — COMMUNITY SERVICE AWARD.”
My stomach tightened.
“So tell me something.”
Ethan turned toward Lauren.
His expression changed.
“You’ve been in my parents’ house dozens of times.”
Lauren’s face went white.
“So tell me something.”
“Did you know who your mother was to my family?”
She stared at him.
“Did you know who your mother was to my family?”
Lauren didn’t answer.
“Lauren.”
Her lips trembled.
“You saw the photograph?”
“Yes.”
Nobody moved.
Ethan stared at her.
“How long?”
“Months.”
“Then why have you spent all this time making sure I never met her?”
“You saw the photograph?”
“Yes.”
“And her name?”
Lauren nodded.
“Yes.”
Ethan stepped back.
The words hung there.
“Then why have you spent all this time making sure I never met her?”
Lauren wiped her face.
“Because I lied.”
The words hung there.
Ethan frowned.
“About what?”
The officiant quietly stepped forward.
Lauren looked around at the watching guests.
Then at me.
She couldn’t say it.
The officiant quietly stepped forward.
“Perhaps we should continue this conversation somewhere private.”
The moment the door closed, Lauren started sobbing.
Ethan nodded without taking his eyes off Lauren.
The six of us went behind the sanctuary.
The moment the door closed, Lauren started sobbing.
“I didn’t know how to fix it.”
Ethan stared at her.
“I said Mom traveled constantly. I said she didn’t like public events.”
“Fix what?”
Lauren looked at me.
“I told Ethan my family had money.”
I said nothing.
“I said Mom traveled constantly. I said she didn’t like public events.”
“You said your parents owned property.”
Ethan’s expression hardened.
“You told me your mother spent half the year in Europe.”
Lauren covered her face.
“I know.”
“You said your parents owned property.”
She started crying harder.
“My father did own property.”
I finally spoke.
“He owned our house, Lauren.”
