“It’s still cheap,” Sloane muttered. Margaret had taken a chair under the shade umbrella. She raised her chin. “Sloane.”

The girl stiffened. “Come here.” Sloane looked to Vanessa for cover. Vanessa deliberately turned away. The girl walked forward, twisting the bracelet on her wrist.

Margaret studied her without anger, which somehow made it worse. “Do you know what a nurse does?”

Sloane stared at the patio. “Helps doctors.”

“No. That’s what foolish people say when they want to sound superior. Nurses watch when everyone else stops watching. They notice small changes before the machines scream. They clean wounds, lift bodies, calm families, hold hands, argue for medication, catch mistakes, and stand between fear and death more often than most people in expensive rooms will ever admit.” She let the words settle. “Your cousin’s mother has done more honorable work in one week than some people at this party have done in a decade.”

Richard cleared his throat. “Mother, perhaps this should happen privately.”