“If it weren’t for pity, no one would have invited you,” Gerald sneered, tapping his gold signet ring against the rim of his glass.

“You’re an unattached charity case sitting at table twenty-two, and everyone knows it.”

A waiter passed between us carrying a silver tray with two leftover glasses of sixty-five-dollar Pinot Noir.

I reached out my right hand, my silver class ring catching the sconce light, and took one of the crystal glasses from the waiter’s tray.

Gerald sneered at my navy linen dress, his jaw tight as he waited for me to lose my temper, to raise my voice, or to run out the side exit into the parking lot.

I did not argue with him.