Then Gerald turned his head and looked straight past the middle tables into the dark back corner of the room.

His eyes locked directly on table twenty-two.

“Unfortunately,” Gerald said, his raspy voice dropping into a cold, harsh tone that reached every ear in the room, “some children choose vanity over duty.

Some run away, abandon their families, and expect a free seat when it’s convenient.”

A quiet wave of whispers passed through table one as Margaret nodded slowly, her fingers resting against her double-strand pearls.

Gerald held his gaze on me for four long seconds, letting every eye in the room follow his glare back to table twenty-two by the kitchen doors.