Chapter 10 - The Dressing Suite Where She Slept
He didn't carry me. He held my hand and let me walk, which I was grateful for because I didn't want anyone to think I couldn't do it myself. His hand was big and warm around mine and he walked slow enough that my pink shoes could keep up on the marble. The ballroom noise got quieter as we went through a side door I hadn't seen before, down a short hallway where the Christmas garland wasn't as thick and the air smelled like clean laundry and hairspray.
The dressing suite was small and quiet. There was a cream sofa like the one in the ballroom but smaller, a big mirror with lights around it, and a rack of coats covered in plastic. A crystal chandelier hummed faintly overhead but the light was softer here, not golden and grand, just yellow and tired. He knelt again and helped me up onto the sofa. My legs didn't reach the edge.
"There you go," he said quietly. He didn't take my bear. He just smoothed the blanket someone had left folded on the arm and tucked it around my shoulders. "You can rest here. I'm right there, okay?"
I nodded and pulled the bear tighter against my red dress. The thin blue band on his lower leg had come a little loose and I pushed it flat with my thumb. My eyes kept closing on their own. I was so tired my face hurt from trying not to cry.
He sat in the chair across from me, not behind a desk or standing over me. He loosened his black bow tie just a little and checked his silver wristwatch. He didn't look at his phone.
The door opened and the woman in the black sequined dress came in. She didn't knock. She had her arms crossed again and her blonde hair looked less perfect up close, a few strands out of place.
"You can't keep her in here all night," she said in a low voice, but not low enough. She thought I couldn't hear because I had my eyes half closed. "We have staff. We have the volunteers from the foundation. Let them take her to the back office. This is not your responsibility."
He didn't stand up. He kept his voice even and calm.
"I'm not handing her to staff," he said. "Not tonight."
"You're making this bigger than it is," she said. "You're embarrassing yourself. Over a bear."
"It's not over a bear," he said. He glanced at me and then back at her. "She doesn't need to be passed around. She needs one quiet room and one person she knows is staying."
"And you think that's you?" Her sequins caught the light when she shifted. "You don't even know her name."
"I know she hasn't let go of that bear since she sat down on that sofa," he said. "I'm not separating her from it and I'm not separating her from my watch. Not until the sheriff says otherwise."
She exhaled through her nose. I watched her through my eyelashes, the way her arms stayed tight across her chest.
"So what do you tell her in the morning?" she asked. "What do you tell her about Grace Bennett?"
At that name my fingers curled tighter into the bear's fur. I tried to keep my breathing even like I was already asleep.
He leaned forward a little, elbows on his knees. "We tell her we're going to find Grace," he said. "Because we are. First thing in the morning. I talked to the sheriff. He knew the name. He didn't want to say much on the phone with the music going, but he knew it."
"Everyone knows that name," she said, quieter now. "That's why you shouldn't promise a three-year-old."
"I'm not promising anything except that she sleeps safely tonight," he said. "The search waits until morning. She's exhausted."
I felt my head tip to the side against the sofa arm. The blanket smelled faintly like cedar. The bear's nose was pressed against my cheek and I could feel my own breath coming back warm off his fur. Their voices got softer, like they remembered I was there.
"We'll check the foundation office Christmas morning," he murmured. "The address the sheriff mentioned. If the band on the bear is what I think it is, there will be records."
"And if her mother comes back?" the woman asked.
May you like
"Then we listen," he said. "But tonight she stays here."
I didn't hear what she said after that because the words were blurring. The little lights around the mirror made a halo if I squinted. I thought about the Christmas trees in the ballroom and how loud they looked and how quiet this room was. The man's wristwatch ticked just loud enough to hear. I held the bear against the velvet of my dress and felt my eyes finally close all the way. I was asleep before either of them closed the door.
