On the morning of the BBQ, Darren inspected her outfit as if she were part of his presentation. “Nothing too serious,” he said, adjusting his watch in the hallway mirror. “It’s casual, but still company casual. And please don’t get into long conversations about work. These people live in a different world.” Claire looked at him through the mirror. “Different from me?” He smiled without turning around. “You know what I mean.” She did know. That was the problem.
At the BBQ, Darren became brighter, louder, and more polished. He introduced Claire as “my wife” and nothing more. Whenever someone asked what she did, he answered before she could. “She keeps things running at home.” “She’s not really in the corporate world.” “She has hobbies.”
Claire smiled until her cheeks hurt. She watched Vivian Harlow move among the guests, sharp-eyed and calm, listening more than she spoke. Once, Vivian’s gaze landed on Claire and stayed there, as if trying to place her. Claire turned away first. She had not come to expose anyone. She had come to survive one afternoon.