Chapter 4 - The Pity of Fools
Walter stepped closer,
invading my space with the scent of cigars and expensive cologne.
He leaned down,
his voice dropping to a hiss that was meant only for me,
and for the curious ears of the elite.
"Pity is the reason you were invited,
Ruth,"
he said,
each word a precise strike.
"Nothing more."
"Mason felt bad for the aunt who lives in a shoe box,"
"so he threw you a bone."
He looked at my silver bracelet,
the only piece of metal on my body.
"You do not belong here,"
he continued,
his eyes burning with an old,
familiar fire.
"You are a reminder of a failure I had long since forgotten."
"You are a stain on this evening,
and on this family."
I took a quiet sip of my wine,
the liquid cold against my tongue.
"Failure is a matter of perspective,
Walter,"
I said,
my voice steady and low.
"I think Mason invited me because he wanted someone in this room who actually loves him,"
"not someone who just loves his last name."
Shane snorted,
adjusting his gold cufflinks.
"Love doesn't pay for ice sculptures,
Ruth."
"Success does."
"And look at you,"
"you look like you're dressed for a funeral,
not a wedding."
"Maybe I am,"
I said,
offering them a thin,
enigmatic smile.
"Maybe I'm here to watch the Foley legacy finally choke on its own pride."
Walter’s face turned a deep,
angry shade of red.
He wanted me to scream,
he wanted me to cry,
he wanted me to beg for a seat at the head table.
He wanted the nineteen-year-old girl to come crawling back,
just as he had predicted in the rain.
But I wasn't that girl anymore.
I was a woman who had seen the sun rise over a dozen different oceans.
I was a woman who had commanded men in the heat of battle.
I was a woman who had earned every scrap of respect I possessed,
without the help of a silver spoon or a family trust.
"Enjoy your wine,
Ruth,"
Walter said,
straightening his back.
"It's the most expensive thing you'll ever taste."
He turned on his heel and walked away,
Shane following him with a final,
mocking wave of his hand.
I sat there in the shadow of the palm tree,
feeling the eyes of the guests on me.
They looked at me with a mixture of amusement and disgust,
seeing only the navy dress and the clearance-rack shoes.
They saw a pauper at the feast,
a charity case in a sea of titans.
I let them look.
I let them whisper.
May you like
Because the night was young,
and the bride had a secret that was about to blow the roof off the Grand Bellevue.
