I looked at the empty chair again.
For one irrational moment, I considered sitting down anyway.
The place card did not carry my name, but thirty-one people had already seen what Celeste had done.
Taking the chair would not have made me part of the family.
It would only have given her another opportunity to call me difficult.
So I smiled.
I said, “Of course.”
I found a small two-person table near the bar, half concealed by a potted olive tree.
The bartender brought me a menu and asked whether I was waiting for someone.
“No,” I said. “It’s just me.”
I placed Celeste’s gift on the chair across from mine.
From where I sat, I could hear the birthday speeches without being fully visible to most of the guests.
Blake talked about Celeste’s strength.
Lila called her the heart of the family.
Warren described her as a woman who never allowed anyone to feel excluded.
That line drew warm laughter.
I looked down at my plate until the moment passed.
I ordered dinner because leaving immediately would have looked like a scene, and Celeste had spent my entire life teaching me that other people’s cruelty became my embarrassment the moment I reacted to it.
The server brought my meal while the private room received its second round of wine.
I ate slowly.
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At one point, a cousin came near the bar and noticed me behind the olive tree.
She hesitated as though she might speak, then looked toward Celeste and returned to the party.
That was how Celeste maintained control.
She rarely demanded loyalty directly.
She simply made everyone understand what disloyalty would cost.
The cake arrived with small candles around the sugared orchids.
The family sang while Lila recorded a video.
