Genevieve

The gala was a failure. It was just a room full of people in expensive suits pretending in each other’s faces. Every “congratulations” from a board member felt like a slap. The champagne was too cold, the lights were too bright, and I just wanted to scream.

Father and Uncle Artie had masked the ceremony as a celebration of a merger; meanwhile, it was a funeral for my old life as Genevieve Jacobson. My mother had been awfully silent through all of this.

My father stumbled over to ...