Maeve's POV
My mother sent the dress two weeks before the event, which was her way of making sure I didn't show up in something she didn't approve of.
It arrived in a garment bag with a note in her handwriting that said the green is perfect for you. Wear your hair up. Not a suggestion. A brief handed down from someone who had already decided how the evening was going to go.
The green was perfect for me. I hated that she was right about that.
The fundraiser was in Hartford, at one of those hotels that had chandeliers so large you had to actively avoid looking at them, or you'd spend the whole night with a crick in your neck.
I had been to enough of these that I could navigate one in my sleep. Smile at the right people, hold my glass correctly, make conversation that was warm enou
