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feels, remembers it well, how it made her insignificant, irrelevant. She vowed never to give anyone that same feeling.
    Ted has been known to turn and walk off, mid-conversation, leaving Grace to apologize without words, by linking her arm through that of a stranger and asking a thousand questions about their lives, making them feel important, making them forget they were just dismissed by Ted Chapman, or, if they remembered, making it immaterial.
    Much of her life, she realizes, is spent cleaning up after Ted. Apologizing for him, or charming those who have been snubbed. It has become a reflex, an automatic response to his rudeness. She recognizes dismay, or shock, and sweeps in to make it all better.
    Grace is known for her smile: a wide, luminous smile; a smile that makes it look like her world is perfect. It is this smile she is wearing as Ted takes the stage, ruffles his papers, adjusts the microphone, pats his pockets for his reading glasses, then stares over at Grace, who is holding them up above her head, this time with a genuine smile on her face as the room laughs.
    ‘My beautiful wife.’ Ted leans in to the microphone. ‘Where would I be without her? As blind as a bat, for starters.’ The audience is delighted at this impromptu repartee as a young waiter scurries through the tables to retrieve the glasses and deliver them to Ted.
    Ted accepts the glasses, extending a hand to Grace as the audience cheers and applauds. ‘My muse,’ he says, as Grace tilts her head in acceptance, placing a hand on her heart. She is the very picture of the perfect wife, gazing adoringly at her husband and blowing him a kiss.
    No one would know that much of the time Grace wonders why she is so unhappy; no one would guess that when Ted shouts at his wife, belittles her, bullies her, it is as if her mother has risen from the dead, determined to ruin the rest of her life too.
    ‘M um?’ Clemmie bends down next to Grace’s chair as all around them people are getting up to leave. ‘I need you to meet someone.’
    Grace turns to see a young woman standing just behind Clemmie. She is probably in her early thirties, with an open face. Little makeup, natural dark blonde hair, she is confident and self-possessed, meets Grace’s eye with an assured smile. Sweet. Compelling. And possibly perfect.
    ‘This is Beth. She was at our table, and I was talking about Dad looking for a personal assistant, and guess what! She’s an assistant, and she just left her last job so she’s been looking for something new!’ Clemmie’s voice is quick, excited. ‘Isn’t that an amazing coincidence? I told her I had to introduce you. Don’t you think that’s weird? It must be fate, surely.’
    Grace smiles indulgently, but yes, she thinks, how odd. What on earth would a personal assistant be doing here? And what are the chances? Could this be, as Clemmie has said, a sign?
    ‘Beth?’ Grace gestures to the young woman to sit. ‘What a wonderful stroke of luck indeed. Perhaps we ought to talk.’
    ‘We don’t have to talk now,’ Beth says. ‘I know how busy you must be at these events and I’m so sorry to disturb your evening. Clemmie insisted on bringing me over, but I know this isn’t a good time.’
    ‘Sit,’ says Grace, pulling a now-empty chair closer. ‘There’s never a good time. Tell me, where do you live? Tell me about yourself and what you’re looking for.’
    Grace watches as Beth sits down. ‘I live in Connecticut but I’m looking to move,’ Beth says, her voice soft, but with a surprising confidence that belies her youth. ‘I just looked at a small house in New Jersey that I fell in love with, but I know I can’t sign the rental agreement until I have a job lined up.’
    ‘Where in New Jersey?’
    ‘Northvale?’ Her voice tilts up in a question, as if Grace wouldn’t know it.
    ‘Northvale!’ Grace’s eyes open in delight. ‘That’s right by us! I know we’re in Rockland County and Northvale is, as you pointed