I had been that woman in the housekeeping polo Michael once wished his classmates had not seen.
Bellvine merely gave the people at Table 22 information they should never have needed.
Months after that dinner, Michael joined me there again.
Just the two of us.
He arrived before seven.
When Aaron came to the table, Michael ordered his meal and then looked across at me.
“What are you having, Mom?”
Such a small question.
Once, I might not have noticed it.
Now I did.
I told him.
He listened.
And when the drinks came, there were two glasses on the table, placed with equal care beneath the same chandelier.
Michael raised his glass.
“To you,” he said.
I shook my head.
“No speeches.”
He smiled.
“Noted.”
That made me laugh.
Table 22 remained only a table after that.
And my place, finally, was wherever I chose to sit.
