Waiters carrying flutes of champagne whisked through the crowd, followed by those offering appetizers. Standing next to Rebecca in the reception line, Rachel called on the strength she’d built up over the years in dealing with her parents. She could do this, stay an hour and leave. To make herself feel better, she’d dressed up in sparkling silver and black and wore heavier makeup than usual. Her sister squeezed her arm in support. There was no time to talk as the queue moved in a steady stream. “Rachel, dear.” On the other side of her, Rachel’s mother, dressed in a long, black skirt and white blouse, held the hand of another woman in line in front of her. “Pauline, you remember my daughter Rachel. Rach, this is Pauline Depew. She runs the lab where I conduct my research.” Pauline, dressed to the nines, like everybody else here, smiled at Rachel. Was there a bit of condescension in the gesture? “Yes, of course I remember her.”
