Megan blushed and said, “Hi, Abby. I was hoping to convince my uncle to try the coffee. We rented this huge silver urn and it’s filled to the brim, but no one seems interested.”

“Maybe he and I could sample the coffee together,” I offered, setting my champagne glass down on a small side table near the wall.

Graham attempted to focus on me, his head wobbling with the effort. “Don’t I know you?”

“We met last night at dinner. Abby Rose.”

“That’s right. Megan’s little rich friend. So you want to force-feed me some caffeine? I’ll bet you could ante up for a whole Starbucks. Gold mine, those Starbucks. Who’d have thought us Texans would willingly pay five dollars for steaming coffee in our ninety-degree summers? Shoulda got in on that action when they first came to town.”

“Uncle Graham, forgive me, but there are guests I haven’t even spoken with yet,” said Megan.

He gulped the last of whatever he’d been drinking and slid the rocks glass on the table, nearly tipping over my champagne flute. “Well, forgive me for monopolizing you.”

But Uncle Graham didn’t move and Megan seemed reluctant to leave him, though if I were in her place I would have done so in a heartbeat.

I took Graham’s arm. “Let’s you and I chat.”

Megan mouthed a thank-you once he seemed willing to depart with me.

I wasn’t simply being a Good Samaritan. He’d called me the “rich friend,” and I wanted to know how he’d learned about my financial circumstances, considering I hadn’t mentioned my background to anyone last night. I hadn’t even told Megan. Despite being well-off, I charge for my services, using everything I make to support a home for unwed mothers in Galveston—a home I have a special interest in. Kate and I were born there.