“C’est la vie, as they say.”

She knocked her heavy diamond rings against the crystal rim of her water glass.

The sharp ring carried over the soft murmur of the other tables.

A few diners turned around.

Vanessa sat next to her mother and smoothed her linen skirt perfectly flat across her knees.

“We want the Belle Meade estate to look absolutely flawless, right?”

I looked down at the menu in front of me.

No prices were printed, a tradition the club kept for its guests.