Jessica. The younger sister. The Golden Child. While Sarah had spent her twenties building a business empire from scratch, Jessica had spent hers attempting to become an influencer, a model, and currently, a “lifestyle curator,” whatever that meant. Jessica was the porcelain doll the family put on the shelf; Sarah was the wood and nails that built the shelf.
“That’s great, Mom. I actually bought a new gown for tomorrow. Navy blue silk. I think it fits the ‘Midnight in Paris’ theme well.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. A silence that was heavy and pregnant with awkwardness.
“Oh,” Linda said. Her voice dropped an octave. “About that.”
Sarah’s hand froze over her iPad. “About what?”
“Well, you know how popular the Annual Whitaker Gala has become. Everyone who is anyone wants to be there. The Senator accepted. The Board of Directors for your father’s old club accepted.”
“Okay…”
“We’re just… we’re tight on space, Sarah. The venue has a strict fire code limit of 88 people for the seated dinner.”
Sarah frowned. “I know the venue, Mom. I booked it. I paid the deposit. It holds 100 comfortably.”
“Yes, well, we promised Jessica she could have the head tables for her influencer friends—it’s good for her brand, you know? And with the cousins coming in from Connecticut…” Linda let out a nervous little laugh. “We simply ran out of chairs. We figured since you’re so busy with work, you probably wouldn’t want to sit through boring speeches anyway.”
Sarah felt a cold sensation spread through her chest, like ice water injected into her veins. “You’re uninviting me? To the party I paid for?”
“Don’t be dramatic, Sarah. We’re not uninviting you. We just don’t have a seat for you at the dinner. You can come for cocktails! Or maybe you could help manage things from the back? You’re so good at organization. The caterers always need supervision.”
They didn’t want a daughter. They wanted a free event planner.
“So,” Sarah said, her voice trembling slightly, “let me get this straight. You want me to pay for the flowers, the lights, the food, and the venue, but I’m not allowed to sit down and eat?”
“It’s just logistics, darling. Don’t make this about you. It’s Jessica’s big night. Be a supportive sister. We’ll send you plenty of photos!”
