For several seconds, nobody moved.
Arthur stood on the stage staring at Isabella as though the dead really had walked back into the room.
Nancy looked even worse.
Her face had lost all colour, and one hand gripped the edge of a table as if it were the only thing keeping her upright.
Isabella continued walking.
Whispers spread through the ballroom.
“That’s Isabella Evans.”
“She’s alive?”
“How is that possible?”
I watched Arthur carefully.
His shock lasted only seconds before the businessman returned.
“This is some kind of sick joke.”
Isabella stopped several feet from the stage.
“No, Arthur. The joke was the funeral.”
More gasps followed.
Arthur looked towards me.
“You did this.”
“I invited my mother to a gala. I hardly think that qualifies as a crime.”
“You knew she was a
