Chapter 8 - Chandelier Light and Footsteps
I heard them before I saw them. The marble carried sound too well in that foyer. Heels and dress shoes clicking in a loose rhythm, coming from the hallway past the hydrangeas. My breathing hitched and I tried to swallow it.
The woman in green heard it too. Her whole posture changed in half a second. Her hand lifted off Caleb's shoulder and smoothed down the front of her dress. When she looked at us, her eyes were still hard but her mouth pulled up into something practiced.
"Smile," she said under her breath. "Stand by the chair."
Caleb didn't move right away. She touched the back of his arm, not hard, just steering, and guided him toward the gold-trim chair. Then she turned to me. I felt her fingers light on my back, pushing me left so I was closer to the chair leg and the blue flowers behind us.
"Box up where they can see it," she whispered. "Hold it still."
I lifted the gift box a little higher against my chest. The beige paper was damp where my thumbs had pressed it. The white satin bow had loosened on one side from how tight I'd been holding it. I tried to tuck my chin down so my face wouldn't look so wet, but the tears were still there, hot on my cheeks. I locked my jaw to keep from sniffing.
The chandelier light felt brighter suddenly. It threw little warm spots across the marble and up onto our faces. I could see dust in the air over the hydrangeas, blue petals huge and still behind me.
The footsteps got louder. Two couples came around the corner, laughing about parking and valet. The man in the suit stepped forward half a step, putting himself slightly between us and them. I recognized what he was doing even at seven. He was buying time.
"Evening," he said, his voice low and even. "You finding everything all right?"
One of the men nodded toward our corner. "Oh, are we interrupting photos?"
The woman in green laughed, short and bright. It didn't sound like her real voice. "Just grabbing a quick one while the kids are still clean," she said. "You know how it goes at these galas."
She moved in behind us and placed one hand lightly on Caleb's shoulder and the other just above my back where the camera wouldn't catch the pressure. She smelled like hairspray and something floral. Caleb stared straight ahead. His mouth was set in that flat line he got when he was trying not to cry. He didn't lean into her hand.
One of the women in the donor group already had her phone up. "Oh, they're adorable. Let me get one, the flowers are perfect there."
I froze. I knew my eyes were red. I knew my braids had loosened on the ends. I tried to think about what my dad had told me that morning about holding still for pictures — shoulders back, look at the lens — and I tried to do it. The phone camera flashed once under the chandelier light. The box was right in the center of the frame, beige against my pink dress. I could feel its corners pressing into my ribs.
"One more, honey, smile," the woman with the phone said.
I tried. My mouth shook when I pulled it up. Caleb blinked hard and didn't smile at all. The woman in green's fingers tightened just a fraction on my back.
"Perfect," the donor said. "Thank you."
The man in the suit nodded toward the ballroom doors. "Bar's still open through there, and they're seating in about ten," he said. "If you head that way you'll beat the line."
It worked. The group laughed again and their shoes started clicking away across the marble. I listened until the sound faded down the hall.
Nobody moved for a second after they were gone. The chandelier buzzed faintly overhead. The woman's smile dropped off her face like she'd set it down. Her hands lifted away from us.
May you like
Caleb exhaled through his nose. I let out a breath I'd been holding so long my chest hurt, and a tear slipped down without me making a sound. I pressed the box tighter to keep my hands from shaking.
The foyer was empty again, but nothing was over.
