Chapter 4 - Moved Toward the Flowers
He did not call out to us. That was the first thing I remembered later, how quiet he was about it.
The man from the doorway kept walking until he was close enough that I could hear his shoes on the marble. He did not look at the woman first. He looked at Caleb, then at me, then down at the box pressed against my chest. His face did not change. He put one hand lightly on Caleb's shoulder, not to push him, just to rest it there, and with his other hand he motioned toward the side of the foyer.
"This way," he said. His voice was low. "Out of the walkway."
It was not a question. Caleb did not move right away. I felt his elbow brush against my arm because he had stepped a little in front of me before, and he stayed there. The man waited a beat, then adjusted, guiding more than steering, his palm sliding to Caleb's back as he turned us both a few steps toward the chair with the gold trim.
The blue hydrangeas got bigger in my vision as we moved. Someone laughed out in the main hall, a sharp bright sound that did not belong to us. I heard the clink of glasses. My breathing hitched again and I tried to swallow it.
The woman followed. Her heels made almost no sound now. When we stopped near the chair, she was right beside us again, close enough that her dress brushed the tulle of mine. She bent a little, her mouth near my ear but her eyes on the room.
"Pull yourself together," she whispered. "People can see you."
I nodded too fast. The bow on the box had loosened on one side from how hard I was holding it. I tried to fix my grip without letting go, tucking my fingers tighter under the bottom. The paper was warm and a little damp where my palms had been.
The man glanced toward the entrance where two older guests had paused. He shifted his own body a half-step to block their view of me. It did not hide us completely. It just made us less of a straight line to stare at.
"Caleb," he said quietly. "Why don't you wait by the door for me? Just for a minute."
Caleb shook his head. He did not look up at the man. He looked at the woman.
"No," he said. "I'm staying with her."
His voice was flat. Not loud. I felt his hand bump against mine, then settle, his pinky hooking over my wrist above the box. He did not try to take the box from me. He just anchored there.
The woman exhaled through her nose. "This is not helping," she said under her breath, to the man, not to us. "You're making it a bigger thing."
The man did not answer her right away. He looked past us toward the hydrangea arrangement, then at the empty space beside the chair, measuring it.
"Stand here," he told us, softer this time. "Against the wall. Emma, you can lean on the chair if you need to."
I stepped back until my leg touched the chair leg. The gold trim was cold against my hand when I reached for it without thinking. Caleb moved with me, matching my step. The flowers smelled clean and green, too strong up close. A petal had fallen on the marble and my shoe covered half of it.
From the new spot, the foyer felt narrower. The chandelier light still came down warm on all of us, but the traffic of people now passed a few feet to our left instead of right through us. Nobody stopped, but one woman in a dark dress looked over and then looked away quickly.
May you like
The man stayed in front of us, his back partly to the room. The woman stood to his right, her arms crossed now, her earring catching the light when she turned her head to check the hallway. None of it was over. We were just out of the middle.
Caleb squeezed my wrist once and did not let go.
