Chapter 2 - We Stepped Away From the Music
The watch was warm from his hands. That was the first thing I registered after he said it. Not the photo, not the crowd shifting around us, just the heat of the brass against my palm and the way the chain dragged across my fingers because he wouldn't let go of the other end.
People were looking. I could feel it the way you feel a spotlight move. A woman near the bar had stopped mid-laugh. A man with a drink in his hand leaned in to ask his wife something. My cheeks were wet and I hadn't wiped them yet because if I lifted my hand everyone would know for sure I was crying.
I glanced past the boy's shoulder. The lights from downtown were blurred behind him, gold and white, and the string lights over the rooftop made everything soft except his face. He was still looking up at me, waiting.
"Come here," I said quietly. "Let's get out of the way."
I didn't grab him. I put my hand lightly on his upper back, just between his shoulder blades, and guided him to the left, toward the edge where the crowd thinned near the railing. My heel caught once on the deck mat and I steadied myself on a high table. Someone's champagne glass rattled. I didn't look back to apologize.
The air was cooler by the railing. Traffic sounded far below, and the music from the quartet didn't reach as cleanly here. It gave us a pocket. Not private, but less watched.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Jonah," he said.
"Jonah, I'm Elena." My voice sounded scraped. I breathed in and tried again. "Let's stand here a minute, okay? It's quieter."
He nodded and stepped closer to the railing. The chain pulled taut between us. He still had two fingers looped through it. I didn't ask him to let go. I just held the case open in my palm so the light from the patio heater caught it.
Up close, under that warm light, I could see the wear I'd missed in the first shock. The brass was rubbed pale on the edges, especially around the bow where the chain fed through. There were fine scratches across the back, the kind that come from years in a pocket with keys and change. The hinge was loose. When I tipped it, the lid fell a fraction wider on its own.
Inside the lid was the photo. Scalloped edge, thick paper, glued down and then sealed at the corners where the adhesive had yellowed. It wasn't a professional print. The cut was slightly uneven on the left side, like someone had trimmed it by hand to make it fit the curve. The young woman in it stared straight ahead, dark hair pulled flat, mouth closed. I had to look away after three seconds because my chest started to pull tight again.
"Can I turn it over?" I asked him. "I want to see the back."
He nodded. I slipped my finger under the case and eased it around. There was a monogram worn almost smooth, and along the rim a shallow dent I recognized the shape of without wanting to. I ran my thumb over it and stopped.
"Where's your mom now, Jonah?" I asked, keeping my eyes on the watch so my face wouldn't do anything he would remember wrong.
"She's by the check-in," he said. "She told me to stay where she could see me, but I saw you up by the stage and I—" He paused. "Is she mad I came over?"
I finally looked at him. His collar was buttoned all the way up and his shirt was tucked in too neatly, like someone had fixed it twice. His hair was combed but falling forward anyway.
"She's not mad," I said. "She just wants to know you're okay. What's her name?"
"Rachel," he said. "She's wearing a green dress."
Behind us, a chair scraped. Laughter rose again from the bar, covering us. I shifted my body so my back was to most of the tables, making a wall with my dress, my shoulder. My earring swung forward and caught on my collar. I tucked it back with a shaking hand.
"Rachel in green," I repeated, to fix it in my head. "Okay."
"She said I shouldn't bother people," Jonah added quickly. "But I saw your picture on the program. And then I saw you. I just wanted to ask."
I nodded too many times. "You didn't bother me."
I wanted to ask him ten things at once. Instead I looked back down at the chain. One link near the clasp was a different color, newer, a repair. Someone had kept this working. Someone had cared enough to fix it instead of throwing it in a drawer.
"Excuse me, Ms. Hart?"
I flinched. A young staffer in a black vest stood a few feet off, holding a tablet to his chest like a shield. Gala staff. Earpiece, forced smile.
"I'm sorry to interrupt," he said. "They're ready for you backstage for the paddle raise in two minutes. Mr. Cole asked me to come get you."
Jonah looked from him to me. His fingers tightened on the chain.
I closed my eyes for half a second. The foundation's paddle raise. My name on the program. Two hundred people waiting with their numbers up.
"Tell him I need five minutes," I said.
The staffer glanced at Jonah, then at the watch in my hand, then back at my face. "He said it's live-streamed, so—"
"I know what it is," I said, quieter than I meant to. "Five minutes. Please."
He hesitated, then stepped back with a nod. "Okay. I'll tell him."
When he walked away, the quiet by the railing felt thinner, like it had an expiration on it now. Jonah was watching my face.
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"Do you have to go?" he asked.
"Not yet," I said. I loosened my hold on the watch just enough to let him feel I wasn't taking it. "Stay right here with me for a minute, okay?"
