Chloe crossed the room, picked it up, and carried it back.
"This belongs on the table," she said. "Right in the middle."
Diane's restraint finally broke.
"I am paying for this event," she snapped. "Get them out."
A different voice answered from the side of the ballroom.
"Nobody is escorting anyone."
Margaret Price stepped out from beside the service corridor.
She had changed from her day suit into formal evening attire, but there was no mistaking the authority in her voice. Staff members along the walls straightened instinctively.
Diane stared at her. "Excuse me?"
Margaret walked toward the stage.
"Mrs. Whitfield, you moved a family to the kitchen door, removed the groom's father from the speaking program, instructed staff to exclude them from photographs, and then ordered my security team to remove them from my hotel because they embarrassed you."
Diane blinked. "Your hotel?"
"I am Margaret Price, general manager of the Ashford Grand."
"Then you should understand that I am the client."
"I understand exactly who the client is."
Margaret turned toward Simone.
"Ms. Avery, you will complete tonight's event professionally. After tonight, you will not be contracted to plan another function at this property until our events division completes a review of what happened here."
Simone went pale. "Ms. Price, I was following the client's instructions."
"You are employed to coordinate events, not assist in humiliating guests. We will discuss it Monday."
Diane took a step forward. "Who do you think you are?"
Margaret looked at her.
"The general manager, ma'am. But I'm not the one you should be worried about."
She turned toward Harold.
"Sir, may I?"
Harold closed his eyes briefly.
Martha began to laugh.
"Margaret," Harold warned.
"Thirty-five years," she said. "You have told me what to do often enough. Tonight, I'm returning the favor."
Before Harold could stop her, Margaret took the microphone.
"Ladies and gentlemen," she said, "there is one toast missing from tonight's program."
Every face turned toward her.
"The father of the groom, founder and chairman of Brookstone Hotels & Resorts, Mr. Harold Brooks."
Silence.
Not surprise.
Not yet.
Silence so complete that Harold could hear the faint percussion from the kitchen ventilation system.
Then someone near the center table whispered, "What?"
Richard Whitfield stood halfway from his chair.
Diane's face lost all color.
The senator's wife looked from Harold to the ceiling, then back to Harold as though trying to understand whether she had misheard.
A man from Richard's company dropped his fork.
Harold looked at Margaret.
She lifted one eyebrow.
"Good to see you too," he said.
Laughter broke somewhere near the back.
Then applause began.
At first, uncertain.
Then stronger.
Several Brookstone executives who had attended quietly as family friends rose to their feet. Hotel employees along the wall joined them. Margaret stepped aside and handed Harold the microphone.
He did not take it immediately.