Gerald cut us off beside the coat check counter, his face flushed red beneath the brass light fixtures.

“You are coming with me right now, Clare,” Gerald said, pointing a thick finger toward the parking lot.

“We are going home to settle this before anyone else leaves this building.”

Margaret stood three feet behind him, clutching her beaded handbag against her waist.

“Listen to your father, Clare,” Margaret said in her quiet, sweet tone.

“Think about how this will look to the country club board on Monday.”

Clare stopped two feet from Gerald.