For a second, nobody moved.

Then Jenny Kowalski, at table twenty-four, burst into tears and threw her arms around my neck.

Owen the firefighter stood up and started clapping. Then Danny the bus driver. Then Lucy, laughing and crying at the same time.

Then tables near us. Then the whole room. People were standing. Turning around. Staring at the overflow table by the kitchen doors.

I stood up because Lucy pulled me up by my sleeve.

I didn't know what to do with my hands. So I just raised one, a little.

Across the room, at table one, Brooke was still holding the microphone. Her face had gone completely blank.

Someone near the front said, loudly enough for everyone to hear, “Wait. I thought Brooke did the fundraising?”

There was a ripple of laughter.

Brooke went bright red. She put the microphone down very quietly on the stage.

And Chad Whitmore sat at table one, completely still, with his whiskey halfway to his mouth.

Staring at me.

His mouth was moving. I could just about read it.

Sullivan Auto.