Chapter 14 - That Chair Is Hers
The ballroom had filled while I waited in the hallway with Ellis. I could hear the low hum of donors through the half-open doors, the clink of glasses, the scrape of chairs on the polished floor. Dad had told me to stay just outside until he came for me. My pink dress felt wrinkled from sitting on the stairs.
Ellis stood beside me with his hands clasped in front of him. He didn't look down at me, just kept his eyes on the doorway. When Dad appeared at the end of the hall, Ellis gave a small nod and stepped back.
Dad knelt so we were at the same height. He smoothed the bow on the back of my dress where it had folded.
"Ready?" he asked.
I nodded. He took my hand. His watch was cool against my wrist.
Inside, the long table had been reset. The white plates were gone and in their place were folders and pens and small glasses of water. The chandelier was still on, bright over everything. About a dozen people stood near the head of the table where Dad's chair was, and a woman in a navy suit I recognized as the foundation attorney stood with a leather portfolio open. No one was sitting.
Dad didn't let go of my hand as we walked in. The talking quieted.
He stopped at the head of the table. He didn't raise his voice.
"Thank you for waiting," he said. "I wanted to clear one thing before we sign. Margaret's pass was misplaced upstairs earlier tonight. It's been recovered." He lifted the small silver embossed card just enough for the attorney to see, then set it on the table beside the portfolio. "My wife Lorraine is unwell and is stepping back for the rest of the evening. I appreciate your understanding."
No one asked where Lorraine was. The attorney gave a slight tilt of her head and made a note.
Then Dad pulled out the chair to his right. The one he'd pointed to earlier. The one with the high back.
"Emma," he said, and looked down at me, "this chair is yours."
He didn't make a show of it. He just held the chair steady while I climbed up. My feet didn't touch the floor. He pushed it in gently. I put my hands on the armrests because I didn't know where else to put them.
"This is my daughter, Emma," he said to the table. "She's the future of the Whitmore Foundation. I'm glad she's here tonight."
For a second nobody moved. Then the attorney smiled first, a real smile, and a man in a gray sweater started clapping. It wasn't loud, it was warm. Others joined in. I stared at the grain of the table so I wouldn't cry.
Dad rested a hand briefly on my shoulder and then sat in his own chair. The attorney slid the portfolio toward him. She placed the silver card on top of the signature page like a seal.
"This authorizes the pledge transfer under Margaret Whitmore's donor access," she said quietly. "With this recovered, funds will be secured correctly to the family trust."
Dad signed. The pen made a soft scratching sound. The attorney witnessed it and dated it. One by one the donors stepped forward to add their signatures to the lower pages. I watched their hands. No one rushed.
While they signed, I looked up. Past the chandelier light, past the large windows showing the dark blue night, I could see the upstairs window reflected in the glass doors at the far end of the ballroom. A figure stood there. Lorraine. She was in her black dress, but her diamond bracelet caught the light differently now. She wasn't moving. She was watching the table, watching me in that chair. I didn't wave. I didn't look away either.
She turned first. The reflection was gone.
Upstairs, the bedroom door closed softly. I heard it only because the ballroom had gone quiet again as the last donor capped his pen. Ellis had already slipped out. I saw him in the hallway later when Dad excused himself for a moment to check on things. I stayed in my chair as Dad had asked me to.
Ellis didn't say anything to Lorraine. He just stood by the side door near the kitchen, holding it open. She came down with the black glossy clutch tucked under her arm. No card was sticking out of it now. She had a small overnight bag in her other hand. Her hair was still pulled back. She didn't look at the ballroom.
I watched from the doorway as she walked toward the side exit. The vertical light strip by the dark door fell across her shoulder. Ellis escorted her without touching her, his hand hovering near his tie. Outside, a car was already waiting in the side lot, its lights off. The driver got out and opened the rear door.
May you like
Lorraine paused at the threshold. She glanced once back toward the stairs, toward where I stood with Dad's hand on my shoulder again. Then she got into the car. Ellis closed the door and stepped back. The car pulled away quiet on the pavement.
Dad didn't explain it to me. He just let the door ease shut. The pledges were signed, the silver card was safe on the attorney's portfolio, and my chair was still pulled up to the table. I sat back down because he asked if I wanted to stay a little longer, and I did.
