He quickly collected himself and then turned and marched out the door. Hayley noticed her son Dustin recording the entire ugly scene on his camera, thrilled to be documenting such high drama, and giving his mother an enthusiastic thumbs up. She suddenly felt a hand rest gently on her shoulder. “Hayley, do you think I should go into the kitchen and talk to Ivy? I think she could really use a shoulder to cry on,” Charles McNally said, forgetting to wipe the delirious smile off his face. “No, Charles. I really don’t think that would be such a good idea right now,” Hayley said. “You’re right. I should have a couple of cocktails first, you know, fill up on some liquid courage, just to take the edge off before I go for it.” Charles ambled over to the bar, raising a pudgy index finger to attract the attention of the bartender. The door to the golf club flew open again before the DJ had a chance to crank the volume of the music back up, and the crowd was jarred by a cacophony of familiar ear-splitting high pitched yelping.
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