The hired photographer lowered his camera. The caterers pretended not to listen, though every head had turned toward the patio.

Vanessa’s face tightened. “You’re embarrassing us.”

“No,” Margaret said. “You did that.”

She looked at the long birthday table with its gold-lettered place cards and velvet chair covers. “Move the trash bags.”

No one moved. Margaret’s eyes sharpened. “Now.”

Richard hurried over in his expensive loafers and dragged the bags away as several cousins stepped aside. Vanessa’s cheeks darkened.