My dad’s sixtieth birthday invitation said, “Black tie only—dress properly or don’t come.” Then Mom called and whispered, “Your sister’s boyfriend is a senator’s son. We can’t have you embarrassing us.”
I squeezed Emma’s hand, trying to stay calm while every eye in the ballroom burned into us.
Six months earlier, Governor Hayes’s wife, Caroline, had come into the diner after a campaign event ran late. She was alone, exhausted, and fighting hard not to cry.