continued.
“We honor their memories.” Kay paused.
“In ’97 we dreamed our dreams. Today we celebrate those realized and those we still reach for. Ladies and gentlemen, I present our class, now a decade better.”
The lights dimmed and a video played on the wall screen. Kay sat down next to Beth and held her hand. The video ran highlights of their graduation ceremony and the achievements of their classmates.
Then, one by one, Elizabeth Moran’s published photographs displayed on screen. A voiceover explained the disturbing images of the world’s children orphaned by war, famine, disease, natural disasters and neglect. Her yearbook picture flashed up next and the narrator listed her credentials as a Peace Corps veteran, two-time Pulitzer Prize winner, NewsWorld Magazine associate and member of the International Press.
On to the next classmate in alphabetical order, Prescott soon followed with a blurb on Wallace’s successes as an architect.
“Beth, yours is bigger than fathead, Wally’s,” Jack whispered behind his hand.
Beth gulped water as the video ended to thundering applause, the apparent signal for the wait staff to serve the salad course.
“Are you mad at me, Liz?” Kay’s brow pinched together.
“Of course not.” Beth patted Kay’s hand. “Maybe a little embarrassed. But I am proud of those photos because they changed things for those children. So on second thought, thanks Kay. Somebody here might open their wallet because you did this.”
“I, for one, am mighty impressed.” Jack picked up the wine glass a waiter had just filled. “Here’s to the only Pulitzer Prize winner I’ve ever known.”
Beth swatted Jack’s arm as if such an awesome accomplishment were no big deal. “Eat your dinner.”
Jack dug into his meal, his mind racing, more than impressed with his dinner date.
****
Kay seemed relaxed and busied herself striking up dinner conversations among the other people at the table, while she nibbled on her own meal.
Lizzie enjoyed the food, and noticed Kay’s barely touched plate. She touched her arm. “Shouldn’t you be eating?”
“Water gives me heartburn these days,” Kay assured her. “Don’t worry. I’m taking my vitamins. I demo’d that box of chocolates for lunch.” She leaned closer to Lizzie and whispered in her ear. “Wallace at three o’clock.”
Lizzie tried to avoid any telltale head movement and glanced to the right. His hair slicked back with glossy gel, resplendent in an Armani tux, Wallace pushed back from his table.
“It looks like he’s coming over here.” Lizzie swallowed against the clench of nerves.
“Places everybody,” Jack muttered as he reached for Lizzie’s hand and pressed it to his lips.
Undaunted, Wallace soldiered on and approached their table. He held a checkbook in his hand.
“Good evening, Kay. I enjoyed your presentation. Good job.” Wallace gave a smile to the table at large, a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Lizzie knew this unreadable look. It had always prompted guilt in her, a vague sense she had done something wrong and spurred her to apologize. For what? She had never been sure. Jack still held Lizzie’s hand, a now familiar stronghold against the barrage of self-deprecating emotions Wallace invoked.
“Elizabeth, you look intoxicating tonight.” Wallace ignored Jack. “I was touched by your photos.” He waved his checkbook in Lizzie’s direction. “I thought perhaps I might make a modest donation to your cause. Would ten thousand dollars make a small difference?”
“Oh.” Flustered, Lizzie pried her hand loose from Jack’s, linked both her hands together and forced them to be still in her lap. “That’s very generous of you, Wallace. I’m overwhelmed.”
Wallace angled between Lizzie and Kay and leaned his checkbook on the table. He filled out the check and signed it with an audible flourish. Handing the check to Lizzie, a self-satisfied smile brightened his face. “I left the