Then Helen approached us carrying a folded piece of stationery.

“Clara,” she said, “I need you to know something about the speech your father wants to give.”

PART 5

My stomach tightened.

The reception speeches had been planned weeks earlier: Marcus’s best friend, my friend Nora, and Frank.

Dad had asked if he might offer a toast, and before his phone call I had happily agreed.

Afterward, I hadn’t thought to revoke the invitation.

I had been busy arranging an alternative escort, finishing centerpieces, and trying not to cry into the flower buckets.