Chapter 9 — The Ambush

“Josephine!

Goodness, you actually came.” My Aunt Belinda stepped directly into my path, a flute of champagne angled like a small weapon, her eyes going at once to the empty air where a companion should have been.

“And all by yourself.

How brave.”

“Hello, Aunt Belinda,” I said, keeping my voice flat and pleasant.

“Your mother said you were too tied up with your little government paperwork to make the rehearsal dinner.” She pitched her voice a shade louder, angling it toward the guests nearby, the way she always did — cruelty performed for an audience is twice the fun for people like Belinda.

“Such a shame you couldn’t scare up a plus-one.