“The florists are waiting for the final payment, Mrs. Ralston,” Harrison said gently. “And the kitchen cannot serve the main course until the authorization cleared.”

“This is some kind of bank error,” Gloria said loudly, looking around at her guests with a forced, tight smile. “Just a minor technical glitch. My son is resolving it right now.”

She turned back to the phone, her voice dropping to a harsh whisper. “Graham, do something. I have sixty people in this room. The Mayor’s wife is sitting at the head table.”

I could hear the faint, tinny sound of Graham’s voice shouting through the speaker, though I couldn’t make out the words.

He sounded panicked.

“I don’t care about the lawyers, Graham!” Gloria said, her voice rising again. “Use your personal card!”

Another pause.

“What do you mean, that one is locked too?” she asked, her hand trembling.

Harrison stood by patiently, but two security guards in dark suits had appeared near the entrance of the ballroom.

The room had gone almost completely quiet now.

The wealthy women of Highland Park were staring at Gloria, some of them hiding whispered conversations behind their hands.