PART 1 — The Knife on the Floor

The cake knife was on the floor before I reached the table, and Emily’s pink dress had a white smear across the front.

I had the grocery bag against my hip, still holding the extra napkins I had bought because Patricia always complained when there were too few.

Richard stood beside Emily’s chair.

“Emily, pick it up.”

She bent toward the floor.

“Don’t,” I said.

She stopped with one hand near the knife and looked at me.

Richard turned.

“Sarah, stay out of this.”

I put the grocery bag down.

“Emily, look at me.

You did nothing wrong.”

Her thumb pressed into the seam of her dress.

Patricia sat across the table with a napkin between both hands.

She refolded one corner, then another, while the guests near the cake found reasons to look toward the windows.

Richard pointed at Emily.

“She knew better.”