Page 40 of Blacklist

“A gala?” I emphasize the words, so my interest is clear to all parties. “Sounds fun.”

Malcolm immediately seizes the opportunity. “You should come. It will give you a chance to see old acquaintances. If you knew Cyrus, then you’ll know several people there. Being new to town, it might be a way to reconnect.”

“New,” Adair scoffs under her breath. I ignore her.

“Of course,” Poppy says looking flustered, “I’m afraid you have to sponsor a table.”

This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. My chance to dangle my wealth like a prize over the MacLaine family’s heads. “That’s not a problem. I can write you a check right now.”

“Tables cost $7000,” Adair says with a note of challenge.

“Seems like a worthy cause. Naturally, being new in town,” I emphasize the phrase her brother used, “I won’t have a full table to invite.”

“Join our table,” Malcolm says. “We’d love to have you.”

Adair’s spoon clatters into her soup bowl, splashing bisque on the tablecloth.

“I don’t think—” she begins.

But I take advantage of her surprise. “I’d love to.”

I turn my attention to Poppy, not wanting this to undermine my earlier effort. “You can count on me for a table fee regardless. It’s better this way. Everything will go to the animals.”

“That’s very generous of you,” Poppy says pleadingly, her entreaty directed at Adair, whose scowl could kill a man.

“Sometimes, I think I like dogs better than people,” I say, meaning it. Dogs are loyal. They don’t test you or manipulate you or leave you.

“Do you have a dog?” A tiny voice pipes up from the chair swallowing her across the table.

“Ellie,” her mother says in a strained voice, “what is the rule at the table?”

“Children should be seen and not heard,” she squeaks, her eyes turning down to the full bowl at her place. She drags her spoon again. No one’s noticed that she hasn’t had a bite.

The hollow place inside me that I’ve learned to ignore groans for recognition. She has so much of the things I never had but she’s missing out on the one thing I’d always wanted, too. I lean across the table to see her better. She has her daddy’s hair. “I don’t have a dog. Do you?”

Her gaze darts between her mother and father. She doesn’t dare answer until Ginny nods. “No. Mommy won’t let me get one. She says dogs pee on the carpet.”

“That’s quite enough,” Malcolm cuts her off.

“This is why we don’t have Ellie at the table,” Ginny laughs nervously but she’s glaring at Adair not the girl. “She doesn’t understand how to behave appropriately.”

“She’s four,” Adair spits back.

A nerve has been touched, and now I’m stuck in the middle of a passive-aggressive tournament of champions. I suspect this is about more than the little girl coming to dinner.

“She’s happier in the kitchen with Cara at dinner,” Ginny disagrees. The two women glare at each other.

“She doesn’t enjoy eating the same things,” Malcolm explains to me, trying to distract me from the fight between his wife and his sister. “I suppose I didn’t have much of a palate then either.”

“Then bring her food up here,” Adair says.

Ginny turns away from her and gives me a brittle smile. “It’s just so important for us to have adult time.”

“That’s all you ever have,” Adair murmurs.

While the adults argue, the glum frown on Ellie’s face deepens as she pretends to play with her soup. She can hear everything they’re saying. She knows they don’t want her here. Maybe her aunt does, but Adair has never had a talent for going about things the right way.

“Regardless, when we have company, she doesn’t belong at the table.” Ginny reaches for her wine. She’s on the second glass of the evening, but it isn’t mellowing her a bit. Every word from her mouth is clipped, strung as tightly as she is. One wrong move and she’ll snap.