Chapter 5

Celeste lifted her champagne glass before the first plates reached the tables.

“Before we eat, I want to thank the woman who made today possible.”

Forty faces turned toward me. Family friends sat closest to Evelyn’s memorial photograph. Beyond them, donors and investors filled the long tables, their dark jackets broken by white flowers and gold-edged china.

Beside every plate stood a cream place card. Each bore a gold-embossed oval marked CELESTE ROWAN, a polished copy of the plaque hidden inside my coat. My mother’s photograph stood behind those little gold lies.

Celeste aimed her smile at me.

“Mara gave…