His response had come immediately.
E 10 minutes. Helicopter fueled and ready.
I’d made my way back to the ballroom, planning to say quiet goodbyes and slip away before the evening got worse.
But as I’d reached the main table, Marcus had tapped his champagne glass for attention.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he’d begun, “I want to take a moment to thank everyone for being here tonight. Patricia and I are so grateful to be surrounded by such successful, accomplished people. Our families represent the absolute best of what hard work and ambition can achieve.”
He gestured around the room.
“We have entrepreneurs who’ve built million-doll companies, doctors saving lives, lawyers fighting for justice, executives running major corporations, people who’ve taken risks, pushed boundaries, refused to settle for less than excellence.”
His eyes had found mine across the room, and there had been something almost pitying in his expression.
“But we’re also grateful for family members who contribute in simpler ways. My sister Emma flew all the way from Seattle to be here tonight, even though I know the cost was probably difficult for her budget. She works in food service, which is honest, humble work. Not everyone can be a CEO or a surgeon, and that’s perfectly okay.”
The applause had been polite, but condescending.
Several people had looked at me with the kind of sympathy usually reserved for someone announcing a terminal diagnosis.
“Emma represents something important,” Marcus had continued, warming to his theme. “In a world obsessed with achievement and status, she reminds us that there’s dignity in simple work, value in modest goals. She’s content with her life, and that’s actually quite admirable.”
Patricia’s father had stood up, clearly feeling generous after several glasses of wine.
“To Emma,” he’d called out, “for showing us that happiness doesn’t require success.”
The room had raised their glasses to me like I was some kind of inspirational poster about overcoming limitations.
I could see pity in their eyes, mixed with relief that their own children had turned out so much better.
That’s when my phone had buzzed.
“Miss Anderson.”
The voice belonged to a tall man in an impeccable black suit who had somehow appeared beside me without anyone noticing.