Across the room, the musicians began playing again.
Conversations resumed, but the evening had changed.
Guests who had ignored Table Nineteen now found reasons to walk past it.
Some introduced themselves to me.
Others simply smiled.
One executive said she had replayed Emmett’s summit speech three times and asked whether I accepted new clients.
“I’ll send you my business address,” I told her.
Nicholas heard.
He stood several feet away, trapped between wanting to remove me from the table and wanting to be seen near Emmett.
Eventually, my father pulled out the chair across from me.
“May I sit?”
I glanced at the children.
“Only if you can settle the dinosaur argument.”
He sat.
My mother joined him a moment later.
Neither offered an immediate apology.
They were still trying to understand how the daughter they had underestimated had built a career without their approval.
My mother touched the edge of the dragon drawing.
“What exactly do you do?” she asked.
It was the first time she had asked the question without laughing afterward.
“I help leaders say what they mean,” I answered.
“How long have you been doing that?”
“Six years.”
My father looked ashamed.
“And we didn’t know.”
“You knew I wrote.
You decided that meant it wasn’t important.”
He lowered his eyes.
“That’s fair.”
Nicholas approached again as dinner was served.
He kept his voice low.
“Jenna, can we talk privately?”
I looked at him.
“Are you asking because I’m your sister or because Emmett is sitting beside me?”
His eyes flicked toward Emmett.
“That’s not fair.”
“It’s the first fair question you’ve asked me all evening.”
He rubbed his jaw.
“You’ve humiliated me at my own wedding.”
“I sat exactly where you told me to sit.”
“You could have warned me.”
“About what? That treating people badly can become embarrassing when someone important notices?”
His face tightened.
Emmett remained silent.
He did not rescue me or speak for me.
He understood that this part belonged to us.
Nicholas glanced around the table.
“I worked for years to build relationships with the people in this room.”
“So did I,” I said.
“The difference is that mine were built on work.”
For once, he had no answer.
He walked away.
Dinner continued.
Emmett and I discussed an upcoming project without revealing details.
The children interrupted every few minutes, and Great-Aunt Beatrice woke long enough to ask why everyone had suddenly decided to sit near the kitchen.
“Better conversation,” Emmett told her.
