“That’s funny,” I said, “because we were only a family whenever the money came out of my credit card.

Every time I asked you to pay me back, you called me greedy.”

Across the room, the district attorney’s wife rose quietly, gathered her designer purse from her chair, and murmured that she thought it was best if she left.

And she did — and one by one, the other guests followed her toward the door, and I watched several of the extended relatives slide their gift envelopes back into their coats on the way out.

Rosalind sank down into a folding chair and put her face in her hands.