Chapter 1
I kept my hand closed around the bread even after the room went quiet.
It was not really quiet. Crystal clicked somewhere behind me. A chair scraped the floor. Music still moved through the ballroom, soft strings pretending nothing had changed. But all the sounds had pulled away from me, as if I were standing at the bottom of a swimming pool.
Daddy's arm stayed firm beneath my knees. His other hand covered my back. I could feel his thumb moving once, then stopping.
The older woman in silver had turned all the way toward us. Pearls lay across her chest in three pale loops. She looked first at my face, then at the bread, then at Daddy.
A man near the table whispered, "Who let them in?"
Daddy heard him. His jaw tightened.
"Where's the exit?" he asked.
The woman in silver took one step forward. "Please. We can handle this privately."
Daddy looked at her, but he didn't move. "Can you?"
Her mouth opened and closed. Behind her, a waiter lifted a champagne glass from the table and held it against his chest like he had forgotten what to do with it.
I pressed the bread harder against my dress. A crumb dropped onto the dusty orange cloth.
Daddy looked down.
"Don't," I whispered.
He lowered his eyes to me. "I wasn't going to take it."
"You said we'd save it."
"I know."
"For Mommy."
His face changed in a small way. The skin beside his eyes pulled tight, and the hand at my back became still.
The older woman came closer. "Child, nobody is going to take your food."
I didn't know her. I tucked my chin against Daddy's shoulder.
Daddy turned away from her. "We're leaving."
"Mr. Vale," she said.
He stopped.
That was the first time I learned his last name belonged to someone else in the room. Daddy had never told me we had one. He looked at the woman, then at the guests watching us over their plates.
"How do you know my name?" he asked.
The woman glanced toward the cream-and-gold doors. "Your invitation was checked at the entrance."
"We didn't have an invitation."
Another silence opened.
Daddy carried me toward the doors. People moved aside without being asked. Their clothes brushed against one another, black jackets and shining dresses. I smelled roses from the centerpiece, butter from the food, and the sharp clean scent of the floor.
At the doors, Daddy set me down.
My shoes touched the carpet, but my knees shook. He caught my elbow before I fell.
"Can you walk?" he asked.
I nodded because I didn't want him to carry me anymore. His suit was smooth under my cheek, and I had left dirt on the white shirt near his collar.
He crouched in front of me. "Look at me."
I did.
"Did anyone hurt you?"
I shook my head.
"Did anyone take you somewhere?"
Another shake.
He waited. He did not ask again.
The woman in silver approached more slowly this time. Up close, her face looked older than it had from the table. There were fine lines beside her mouth, and one pearl earring trembled.
"My name is Beatrice Hall," she said. "This is a private foundation dinner. If there has been a misunderstanding—"
"I know what this is," Daddy said.
"Then you know making a scene won't help her."
His eyes flicked toward me. "She didn't make the scene."
Beatrice looked at the bread in my hand. "No. She didn't."
A woman in a black dress hurried from the service hallway. She had a clipboard pressed against her ribs and a strand of brown hair stuck to her cheek. She stopped beside Beatrice but kept her eyes on me.
"Mrs. Hall," she said quietly, "the coordinator is asking whether the west room should be closed."
Beatrice answered without looking away. "Not yet."
The woman with the clipboard noticed my bare, dirty arms. Her expression changed, not into pity exactly. More like recognition.
Daddy saw it. "You know her?"
"No," the woman said. "But I saw them by the loading entrance."
Beatrice turned sharply. "Mara."
Mara's fingers tightened around the clipboard.
Daddy stood. "By the loading entrance when?"
"Before the guests came in," Mara said.
Beatrice's voice went flat. "That isn't relevant."
Mara looked at the bread. "It might be."
Daddy took my hand. His palm covered mine completely.
"What did you see?" he asked.
Mara looked at Beatrice first. Then she looked at me.
"I saw a delivery cart," she said. "There was a box of dinner rolls on it. It was marked for the west room."
Beatrice stepped between us and the table. "This is not the time."
Mara's face went pale, but she continued. "The box was empty before the room opened."
Daddy's thumb pressed once against the back of my hand.
I felt him make a decision.
"Show me the loading entrance," he said.
Beatrice reached for his sleeve. "Mr. Vale, don't."
He gently moved away from her fingers.
May you like
"Don't touch me," he said. "And don't touch my daughter."
Then he led me through the cream-and-gold doors, toward the service hallway, with the piece of bread still locked inside my hand.
