The foundation gala was held at the yacht club on a Saturday night. Delia wore a black gown. Graham wore a tuxedo. I wore a dress that Mrs. Finch helped me pick out from a boutique in town. It was blue, and it was simple, and it was mine.
The yacht club was full of people in expensive clothes. They looked at me with curiosity. Some of them were kind. Some of them were not.
A woman in pearls stopped me by the bar. "You're the one from the article."
"Yes."
"I think it's wonderful that you found your father."
"Thank you."
"But you have to understand," she said, leaning in, "this community has its own way of doing things. Delia has been part of it for twenty years. You've been here for two weeks."
I looked at her. "I'm not asking the community to do anything. I'm just trying to get to k
