Chapter 5 - The Woman Who Locked The Ballroom Door
The door to the dressing suite didn't knock before it opened. I heard the click and then her heels on the wood floor, sharp and even, and I knew who it was before I looked up. She hadn't changed her posture since the ballroom. Her arms were still crossed, her black sequined dress catching the overhead light every time she breathed.
The man stood near the small table where he'd set his phone down after his call. He'd rolled his sleeves up just enough that I could see his silver wristwatch. He didn't look surprised to see her.
"They're asking," she said. She kept her voice low and controlled, like she was trying not to let it carry into the hallway where the music from the ballroom was still playing. "Two tables near the bar. Donors. They saw you carry her off the floor."
He didn't answer right away. I was sitting on the edge of the vanity bench, my pink shoes not quite touching the floor. The bear was on my lap and I had both arms around it.
She glanced at me once, quick, then back at him. "I told the staff she was escorted out to her family," she said. "That we handled it. The photographer is waiting for your remarks. We need the floor clear."
I felt my shoulders pull in. I didn't understand every word but I understood the way she said "handled it." Like I was something that had been taken care of. Like I wasn't supposed to be in that room anymore.
The man took a step toward her, away from me, and lowered his voice. "You told them she left?"
"I told them what needed to be told," she said. "You're embarrassing yourself over some stray child and now you're hiding in a dressing suite making phone calls about a teddy bear. You need to come back out there."
I looked down at the bear. The thin blue band on its leg was frayed at the edge. I turned it so it wouldn't show. Then I pushed the bear a little further behind me, between my back and the red velvet of my dress, where she couldn't see it as well. My hands were shaking and I pressed them flat against its soft back to make them stop.
He stared at her for a second. His jaw tightened. "She's three years old, she was alone on a sofa in a ballroom full of two hundred adults on Christmas Eve, and you want me to pretend she walked out with parents we haven't found."
"We haven't found them because they aren't here," she said. "Which means someone will come for her or they won't, but it doesn't have to happen in the middle of the Bennett Foundation gala. You have a responsibility to that room."
The chandelier light from the ballroom flickered in the hallway every time the door swung. I could hear laughter and a piano, and then a man's voice on a microphone saying something about a pledge. It made the little suite feel even quieter.
The man picked up his phone again. He didn't unlock it. He just held it. "I'm not giving a speech while she's sitting in here without anyone looking for where she came from. You want the room handled, then handle it right. Call Daniels on security. Tell him no one leaves through the east or service exits without a check. No staff car moves until we know who brought her in."
Her arms dropped. "You want to lock the ballroom doors? On Christmas Eve? With every major donor in the county inside?"
"I want to hold the exits," he said. "Not lock them. We check. We ask. We keep the front open, we log. That's it."
"You realize what that looks like," she said. "It looks like you think someone in there abandoned a child. It looks like an accusation."
He looked past her toward the hallway, then back at me. I was watching him, my face hot. I hadn't meant to make them argue.
"It might be," he said quietly.
She let out a breath through her nose. She didn't raise her voice, which somehow made it worse. "Fine. You tell security to monitor the doors. But I am telling the staff the official line stands. The child was found and returned. If anyone asks, that is what happened. I will not have people filming this for social media."
She turned her hand over, palm up, like she was offering him a choice that wasn't a choice at all.
The man slipped his phone into his tuxedo pocket and walked back toward me. He didn't touch me, he just stood close enough that I could see his bow tie straight and his hair gray at the temples. "We're not erasing her," he said to the woman without looking away from me. "We keep her here, we keep her safe, we find out who Grace Bennett is, and then we figure out why she had this bear."
I pulled the bear tighter behind me. The woman's eyes flicked down and caught the movement. She saw the brown fur against the red dress. Her expression didn't soften.
"Then you stay with her," she said. "But you come out for the remarks. Two minutes. That's all I'm giving you before Daniels starts getting questions he can't answer."
May you like
She didn't wait for him to agree. She stepped back into the corridor and pulled the door partway closed, leaving it open just enough that the warm golden light from the ballroom cut a line across the carpet. Outside, the piano kept playing. Inside, the suite felt locked even though the door wasn't.
I stayed very still, the bear hidden behind me, and listened to them both breathe.
