Chapter 7
Hallway outside dressing suites felt too narrow, too quiet. Warm chandelier light from ballroom didn't reach here. Overhead cans hummed, washed marble in flat white. Air smelled like hairspray and old carpet cleaner. My toddler's breath hit my neck in short puffs. Her white cardigan had slipped off one shoulder. I held her tighter, bounced once, tried to keep her calm.
WOMAN_B stood with back to locked door, black clutch pressed against magenta gown, waist cutout catching hallway light. Black strappy heel tapped once, stopped. Smile fixed, controlled. She didn't look at me. She looked past me, toward sound of polished Oxfords coming fast around corner.
MAN rounded corner, tuxedo jacket unbuttoned, bow tie slightly crooked, locket closed in fist. He breathed hard, not from run, from holding temper. He stopped three feet from door. Stared at WOMAN_B. Then at me on floor opposite wall, toddler curled against my chest, beige pumps scuffed, champagne dress wrinkled.
He said, unlock door.
WOMAN_B's smirk thinned. She tilted head, light laugh, like he'd misunderstood.
"She stumbled," she said. "Heel caught dress. I tried to catch her wrist. Poor thing lost balance with baby. Door stuck, that's all."
Lie landed flat in narrow hallway. Inferred gala ambience from ballroom still leaked down corridor — low murmurs, string underlay, heel clicks — but here silence pressed. MAN didn't answer laugh. He stepped closer, held out empty hand, palm up.
"Unlock door. Now."
Micro-expression flickered across WOMAN_B's face, jaw tightened, then smoothed. She reached behind, turned lock. Click echoed. She pushed door open inch, framed it like invitation, not containment.
"See? No drama," she said. "We were helping her get private space for little one."
I didn't move. I watched MAN. He ignored her reframing, turned to me, crouched so eyes level with mine. He opened fist. Gold oval locket sat warm from his grip, ornate filigree catching hallway downlight. He placed it in my palm, not tossed, set careful.
"Yours?" he asked.
Toddler grabbed at chain, I shifted her to other arm. My fingers shook. Thumb found seam, pressed. Locket sprang open.
Portrait inside small, color faded but clear. My mother's face at maybe twenty-five, reddish hair waved same as mine, soft smile, eyes looking just past camera. Same photo that sat on our mantel in apartment before fire, same one mom kept in jewelry box she told me never to lose. Breath caught. I didn't need to guess.
"It's my mom," I said. Voice low, hoarse. "This was hers. Disappeared after she died."
MAN's brow furrowed deeper. He glanced at WOMAN_B, then back at portrait, understanding shifting.
WOMAN_B stepped forward, clutch tightening, voice light, too casual.
"Oh that? Found it," she said. "Gifted, actually. Someone left it at charity table last year. I thought it was pretty vintage piece. No name on it. I had no idea it belonged to anyone here."
Lie by omission. No mention of where she'd actually kept it, why she'd gripped my wrist over it on marble floor. She kept smirk, but eyes darted to locket, then to MAN, gauging which story he'd accept.
MAN looked at her hard. "Found it where?"
"Foundation gala silent auction bin," she said quick. "Donations pile. Could've come from anyone."
Silence stretched. Toddler whimpered, I rocked her, locket still open in palm. I felt weight of choice. WOMAN_B shifted weight, softened tone, tried new angle aimed at me.
"Keep it, honey," she said. "Take it and go get some air. Lobby's quiet. I'll tell staff to clear path so you can slip out without scene. No need to make this bigger."
Offer was trade: locket for exit, for silence, for her control of story. Exit sounded tempting. My legs ached from clutching toddler, beige pump strap cut into ankle where heel had pinned me. Easy to take deal, walk away.
I closed locket, click sharp. Slid chain into pocket of champagne dress, zipped it shut where toddler couldn't pull. I didn't hand it back. I didn't thank her.
"No," I said. "I'm keeping it. We're going to lobby."
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I pushed up using wall, knees shaky, toddler balanced on hip. MAN rose with me, hand hovered near my elbow but didn't grab. WOMAN_B's smirk dropped half second, true flash of frustration before mask reset.
I walked past both, between them, toward lobby doors where warm chandelier light spilled out. Marbled hallway clicked under beige pumps, each step deliberate. I didn't look back. Behind me I heard MAN's low voice, tense, and WOMAN_B answering, words clipped, standoff starting as I left corridor with toddler and locket secured in pocket.
