The Last Invitation (62)
He was not forgiven. His history would not be scrubbed clean, or the edges dulled by the weight of time or insulting explanations. Any attempts at blame-shifting or suggesting Sophie had invited the violence or played a role in her own killing would be squashed and the person voicing the opinion ridiculed.
This year’s auction had one other benefit, and that one related to Jessa.
“She understands the importance of this event.” Retta had engaged in more than one conversation with Jessa on that topic, so she felt comfortable making that blanket statement. “She believes I will be assessing her ability to work a room and assist in fundraising for the charity.”
A hum of agreement traveled around the room. Heads nodded.
“I have been clear that the charity and the confidential work we do are two very different things, so she won’t know she’s being assessed by all of you as well.”
“I’m concerned about your wavering support. The vote to consider Jessa for membership didn’t pass twice. Only your lobbying enticed some of us to agree during the third round,” the child psychologist at the back of the room said. “Her history suggested we be wary, and now, suddenly, you are. I’m wondering what’s happened between then and now.”
“My support hasn’t changed. She has the potential to be our most devoted member, and we need new members. Women who are making a name for themselves and in a position to help.” Retta reiterated her reasons for thinking Jessa should have a seat at their table. “Remember, I have a personal history with her. I’ve seen her struggle. Seen her be ruthless, when needed.”
“I understand that, but—”
Retta refused to concede the floor. “Her history prepared her for this type of work. She knows the world isn’t fair and has always been willing to bend the rules to get what she needs. She has the fire and the drive. She can justify what others might find unjustifiable. She only needs time to prove herself to us.”
“And until then?” The psychologist pressed her point. “You know if the concern keeps growing, we’ll need to—”
“Yes.” Retta didn’t let the other woman spell it out. They all understood the severe price of failing during probationary status. “I know exactly what will happen.”
Chapter Fifty-Five
Gabby
Gabby now understood the phrase fish out of water. She’d been to the Sophie Foundation annual auction fundraiser before. Baines moved in this crowd. Back before the company hit its stride and the money started rolling in, he yearned to belong, so even when they couldn’t spare the donation, they paid for a table and placed bids.
She remembered winning a spa day one year because Baines insisted that they bid on something, and an overpriced afternoon at some place she’d never heard of was the cheapest auction item she could find. The next year she’d nearly fallen over in relief when someone outbid Baines on a flashy new speedboat.
This year, even with her place in this crowd relatively secure, she had to deal with a steady buzz of awkwardness. No one knew what to say to the former spouse of a man who’d allegedly committed suicide. The lack of chitchat worked for Gabby. She didn’t want to share her sadness and confusion with anyone in this room.
She attended because she couldn’t miss the opportunity to stalk Loretta and her husband. She’d done some investigating, and they were the two who started this charity. The Foundation was their baby. If Rob was right about the vigilante side work the Foundation did, then the Swains were behind the attempts to upend Liam’s life. Gabby wanted to show them she was right there, standing in the way and ready to fight.
Jessa Hall stopped circling around her and walked over, wearing a black sheath that managed to look both simple and extraordinary at the same time. It showed off her long, lean frame, and the halter top with the slim bow around her neck added a certain charm.
Jessa handed Gabby a glass of champagne and cradled one of her own. “Congratulations on being the hot topic of whispered conversation.”
Gabby scanned the crowd and saw more than one pair of eyes quickly avert her gaze. “That’s more your move than mine.”
They stood, looking out over the country-club ballroom and the small groups of people hovering around each auction item. Gabby depended on the swell of music and the mumble of conversation to drown out their words. The fake smiles they both wore would perform most of the heavy lifting in convincing the room they got along without sniping at each other.
“Not many women would think attending a big, flashy party a few weeks after their husband died was a good idea.” Jessa gave Gabby’s dress a quick up-and-down. “Did you win that in the divorce? Pretty.”
Gabby ignored the instinct to glance down at her lacy navy cocktail dress. “Former husband. And even your firm thought I should be allowed to keep my clothes.”
“An oversight, clearly. But I’m confused how showing up here is a good idea.” Jessa took a quick sip. “Unless you like the attention.”
“Remind me, are you a big hero or a dangerous, incompetent wreck this week? The press can’t seem to pick a side. A debate among people who clearly don’t know you.”
Jessa smiled and gave a little wave to someone across the room. “You’re not a lawyer, so you don’t—”