The rage on Clay's face froze solid in an instant, as if every ounce of strength had been ripped from his body. His eyes went wide. He stared at my mother standing in the doorway, his mouth opening and closing, unable to produce a single sound. He looked like he'd seen a ghost.

The guests hadn't noticed Clay's reaction yet. They were too busy sizing up my plainly dressed mother, their faces twisting with disdain and confusion as a fresh wave of murmuring rippled through the crowd.