“Evelyn.”
Tessa’s tone suggested she was greeting a suspicious growth.
Evelyn turned to the woman beside her. “You remember Vanessa.”
Small. Casual.YourememberVanessa.Not: This is Vanessa. Not: I don’t think you two have met. My suspicion became a fact so cleanly that I almost admired the efficiency.
Vanessa’s smile was careful. “Hi, Amy.”
“Hello.”
“It’s good to see you.”
“That’s an interesting position to take.”
Tessa coughed into her glass. Vanessa’s cheeks colored. Evelyn’s eyes sharpened. I had not planned that sentence. It had simply escaped.
“I mean,” Vanessa said, “I’m glad you came.”
“Thank you.”
Silence opened between us. Evelyn rescued it with the confidence of someone who had spent years managing brand crises.
“You look wonderful,” she said. “Exactly the same.”
There it was. The remark was technically complimentary. Evelyn specialized in statements that looked attractive until you held them under direct light.
“Thank you,” I said. “You look different.”
Tessa shifted beside me, hiding a smile.
Evelyn’s gaze moved over my dress, my hair, the silver watch. “How have you been?”
“Busy.”
“With work?”
“Among other things.”
“What other things?”
She asked too quickly. Vanessa looked at her.
I reached for my champagne and took a measured sip. “This is an engagement party, Evelyn. I don’t think anyone wants a quarterly report on my personal development.”
She laughed, though I had not made a joke. “Still organized, then.”
“I’ve managed to retain several core personality traits.”
“I didn’t mean it as criticism.”
“You rarely do.”
Tessa touched the back of my arm. A warning or encouragement. With her, either was possible.
Evelyn lowered her voice. “I’m happy you’re doing well.”
“I am.”
