I started the engine, adjusted the air conditioning to its maximum setting, and gripped the leather-wrapped steering wheel.

The drive to the Dallas Country Club took twenty minutes.

I parked near the back of the lot, away from the shiny sedans and valeted sports cars.

Inside the clubhouse, the scent of expensive perfume and fresh lilies filled the air.

I walked down the carpeted hallway toward the Oak Room, where Gloria always held her private events.

Through the double glass doors, I could see the room was crowded with women in pastel suits and diamond jewelry.

Gloria stood near a massive floral arch of white roses, her cream silk dress catching the light from the crystal chandeliers.

She was laughing, a crystal glass of champagne held high in her manicured hand.

“To family,” I heard her voice carry across the room as the doors swung slightly open. “And to the legacy we build for our sons.”

I stood near the shadow of a limestone pillar, watching her.

A young server in a black vest walked past me, carrying a tray of empty crystal flutes.