Sweetheart, be a dear and refill everyone’s champagne. That’s about your speed, isn’t it?

I lifted the bottle, but I didn’t pour. I turned to face the table. “Before I refill anyone’s glass,” I said, “I’d like to make an announcement. Since we’re all family.” Vivienne’s smile tightened. Michael reached for my hand under the table; I squeezed his fingers once. We had rehearsed this. “As most of you know, Vivienne has spent the last three years trying to convince Michael to invest his trust in Coastal Bright Holdings. She’s told everyone at this table it’s a guaranteed return. She even convinced Aunt Margaret to put in two hundred thousand last spring.” Margaret’s fork clinked against her plate. “What Vivienne didn’t mention,” I continued, “is that Coastal Bright is her boyfriend Terrence’s shell company. I know, because I’m the forensic accountant the SEC quietly contracted six months ago after an anonymous tip.” The terrace went silent. Even the ocean seemed to hush. Vivienne’s champagne flute trembled. “That’s a lie,” she hissed. “A vicious, jealous lie from a girl who—” “The subpoenas were served this morning,” I said gently. “To your Manhattan apartment. Terrence has already accepted a plea. Margaret, my office will call you Monday about recovering your funds.” Margaret burst into tears and grabbed my wrist like a lifeline. Vivienne stood, knocking her chair back. “Michael. Michael, tell her—” Michael finally spoke. “Mom. She tried to warn you for a year. You called her stupid to her face at Christmas.” I set the champagne bottle back in the ice, unpoured. “Actually, Vivienne, you were right about one thing,” I said. “Refilling glasses is about my speed. I just prefer to choose whose.” I picked up my own mimosa, tipped it toward Margaret, and sat down. Vivienne walked off the terrace alone, heels sinking into the grass. Nobody followed. Michael leaned over and whispered, “Grandma’s pearls look real today.” I smiled. They always had been.