Chapter 5
Claire opened the courier app and checked the tracking. Most of the invitations had already been signed for.
The company group chat had started up without her.
[Okay, that invitation is... something.]
[Is that Mr. Lane's hand? I'd know that ring anywhere.]
[What is going on? Are we still going tonight?]
[Are you kidding? I wouldn't miss this for anything.]
Claire scrolled the whole thread without a flicker of expression, then opened her messages with Andrew. The last one there was still hers, asking what time he'd be home.
Claire: [Babe, the invitations all went out. Everyone seems really excited about tonight.]
Andrew didn't answer.
Claire wasn't in a hurry. She switched over to the file the private investigator had sent her.
Emily was 23, fresh out of a teachers' college, teaching at a tutoring center.
Her father, Richard Summers, ran the district school board and had picked up a Public Servant of the Year plaque the previous fall.
Her mother, Linda Summers, served as deputy chair of the Women's League and spent her weekends giving community talks on building a strong family.
The file came with photos. They showed Emily on a different arm each time, walking into hotels and malls and expensive restaurants. The dates covered close to a year, three men in rotation, and every one of them was married.
One shot caught her in a car with a balding man in his fifties, hands everywhere, time-stamped two months back. She had already been seeing Andrew by then.
Claire printed the whole file and slid it into a folder.
Her phone buzzed again with a number she hadn't saved, though she knew exactly whose it was.
She let it ring eight times before she picked up.
"Claire, are you out of your mind?" Emily's scream came straight through the speaker. "You put those photos on an invitation? And you mailed one to my father's office? He just called and tore me apart!
"You get on the phone right now and tell every single person you faked them in Photoshop. Tell them it was a printing error!"
Claire held the phone away from her ear and waited for the shouting to run out of air.
"Seven o'clock, Ms. Summers. Third floor of the Grand Harmony. Don't be late."
"You..." Emily was too angry to get a whole sentence out. "You think that scares me? Andrew loves me! He already told me he's divorcing you and marrying me!
"You wait. I'll have him say it out loud tonight in front of every person in that room!"
"Good." Claire smiled. "I'll be waiting."
"Oh, one more thing." She said it like it had only just occurred to her. "Your father's office line is 555-0182 and your mother's cell is 555-0294. Do you want me to say them again?"
Everything went out of Emily's voice. "What... what are you going to do?"
"Nothing at all." Claire sounded almost cheerful. "I'm only pointing out that if you're brave enough to send a woman photos of yourself in bed with her husband, you should be brave enough to live with what comes after."
"See you tonight."
She hung up and blocked the number.
Then she started the car and drove to her attorney's office.
At three that afternoon, she signed the retainer.
The confirmation came through at four. Every invitation had been signed for.
At 4:10, an answer finally came through. [Claire, what is going on with these invitations? Mr. King called to ask if we sent out the wrong file.]
Claire replied: "No, they're exactly as intended. You'll find out tonight."
Andrew called her right away, but Claire didn't pick up.
By half past four, she was back at the hotel, walking the room one last time. The stage, the lighting, the sound, the screen at the back, all of it was ready.