“What happened to your hair?”
I held the microphone closer.
“Someone entered my bedroom last night and shaved my head while I was sleeping.”
Several guests stood.
I heard a chair scrape against the floor.
Michael stared at me.
“You’re joking.”
“I wish I were.”
He reached the stage and stopped beside me.
His eyes moved across my scalp.
“Who did this?”
I looked toward Sabrina.
She was standing near the cake table, holding her champagne glass with both hands.
“I’m not going to accuse someone in front of hundreds of people without establishing what happened,” I said.
“But somebody left this beside my pillow.”
I showed him the note.
His expression hardened.
He read it silently.
Then he looked toward his new wife.
“Sabrina?”
She shook her head.
“Don’t look at me.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You’re both looking at me!”
I set the card down.
The event coordinator approached the stage, visibly uncertain whether to turn off the microphone.
I thanked her and stepped aside.
Then I addressed the guests.
“I owe you an explanation about the wedding gift you’ve heard so much about.”
Michael turned back toward me.
