With a flick of her wrist, she signaled to the servant behind her, who immediately produced a document and slapped it down on the memorial table in front of me. The white silk draping shuddered from the impact, and a fine shower of incense ash drifted to the floor.
"Be smart about this. Sign the pardon letter. Evangeline is being generous enough to overlook your mother's little scam. Don't push your luck."
Clay glanced at the document, his expression dark and sharp-edged, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Dorothy. Sign it. Consider the matter closed. Stop dragging your mother's death into my mom's birthday banquet, or I promise you won't like what happens next."
I lowered my gaze to the paper. The words were plain enough: Evangeline Fox bears no responsibility. Dorothy Simmons voluntarily waives all claims.
I pushed it back across the table. My voice was flat, without a ripple of emotion. "If anyone should be signing something, it's you two. I'm not the one with standing here."