“Our poor aunt will be right over there,” she announced loudly, pretending to be gracious.

I smiled politely and took my seat among the clinking dishes and kitchen noise. My table had wilting carnations and a single flickering candle, nothing like the roses and crystal on the others.

What Margaret didn’t know — and never cared to find out — was that the “poor aunt” she mocked was the owner of Whitestone Events, one of the country’s most successful luxury event companies.