That was all.
For the next hour,
I did exactly what Camille expected.
I moved around the room making sure everyone was comfortable.
I checked whether the staff had enough supplies.
I found an appropriate chair for one of Dad’s older friends.
I helped Ruth remove her coat and fastened the white rose corsage around her wrist.
I adjusted a candle that had shifted.
I reminded the musicians to avoid a particular song that always made Mom emotional.
I solved one small problem after another.
Nobody asked whether I’d eaten.
Nobody offered me a seat.
And nobody seemed to notice that I was the person keeping the evening running smoothly.
At seven-thirty, Camille tapped her champagne glass.
The room gradually fell silent.
She stood beside Mom and Dad, smiling as though she were about to deliver a speech at an awards ceremony.
“Thank you all for coming tonight,” she began.
