George stopped.
I did not smile.
My son had not only discovered who Vanessa was; he had discovered how carefully she had hidden it from him.
I walked to the server and handed him the place card.
“You keep this,” I said.
His hand shook.
“Ma’am, I don’t want trouble.”
“You did not cause any.”
Ethan asked his name.
“Caleb, sir.”
“Caleb, you still have your job,” Ethan said. “Anyone else listed on that card does too.”
Vanessa laughed once, sharply.
“You cannot make staffing decisions at my parents’ home.”
Ethan looked at George.
George looked at the guests.
Then he looked at the recording phone in my hand.
“We’ll review it,” he said.
That was not courage.
It was calculation.
Still, Caleb folded the card and placed it carefully inside his vest pocket.
By early evening, the lawn was nearly empty.
The quartet had packed its instruments.
