“We cannot call the bank on your behalf, Mrs. Ralston,” Harrison said, his tone remaining polite but firm. “But the system indicates the account has been locked by a legal hold.”

A few of the guests stopped talking, their eyes darting between Gloria and the manager.

Gloria set her champagne glass down on a passing server’s tray with a loud clink.

“Get me my phone,” she snapped at her assistant, a young woman who was hovering nearby with a leather folder.

I watched from the doorway as Gloria snatched her phone and dialed a number.

She held it to her ear, her fingers clutching the gold case so tightly her knuckles turned white.

“Graham,” she hissed into the receiver when the call connected. “Why is your corporate card being declined at the country club?”

There was a silence as she listened.

Her face went from pink to a pale, mottled grey.

“What do you mean, frozen?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “All of them?”

I took a step closer to the glass doors, watching her composure crumble in front of her closest friends.