He thanked the crowd for their loyalty. He praised Prescott. He praised himself. Then he turned toward me, and that pulse in my throat that always started when he chose me as the evening’s sacrifice began to beat.
“Tonight,” he said, “we also celebrate my son’s generosity.”
Soft laughter. Anticipation.
“Five years ago, Prescott did something that surprised even me. He married for love instead of strategy.” More laughter. “He married Violet,” Randolph continued, smiling directly at me, “a girl with mountains of student debt and a father who spends his days, I’m told, under old trucks with oil up to his elbows.”
The ballroom chuckled on cue.
“Prescott brought her into our world. He gave her comfort, security, access, a life she could never have imagined. So tonight, as we celebrate this family and this company, let us also celebrate the tremendous charity my son performed for the less fortunate.”
People laughed. Actually laughed.
I heard Adeline’s bright little cackle. I saw Prescott smile down at his plate and then out at the room, pleased with himself, not embarrassed, not offended on my behalf, not anything a husband should have been.