Chapter 2 - The Chair She Saved
My dad didn't stand up right away. He stayed knee to knee with me on that polished floor, his hand still light on my shoulder, and I could hear the chandelier humming faintly overhead.
Lorraine's chair scraped. Not loud, just enough to make me flinch.
"Julian, please," she said. She tried to make it sound calm but her arms were still crossed tight over her black dress. "We have a table full of donors arriving in ten minutes. This isn't the time."
He looked at her, then back at me. His eyes were level with mine and he didn't rush.
"You said upstairs," he said to me quietly. "You're sure?"
I nodded. My throat was dry and I could feel Lorraine watching me. I didn't look at her.
He stood in one smooth motion and lifted me before I expected it. One arm under my back, one under my knees, like I weighed nothing. My pink dress fluttered and my shoes dangled. He carried me the two steps to the empty chair — the one with the white plate that no one had touched — and set me down in it. The cushion was too deep and my feet didn't reach the floor.
Lorraine's breath caught. "Julian. She doesn't need to —"
"That chair is hers tonight," he said again, firmer this time, but still low. He didn't look angry. He just pulled the chair in carefully, his silver watch catching the light. "She sits with us."
I sat very still with my hands on my lap. The table was shining and I could see Lorraine's reflection in it, and the black glossy clutch sitting on the dark fabric beside her plate. The silver card was still sticking out of the top, half hidden. I kept looking at it because I didn't know where else to look.
Lorraine noticed me looking. She slid her hand over the clutch, casual, and tucked the card down with her thumb so it disappeared.
"That?" she said, following my dad's glance. She gave a small laugh that didn't sound real. "It's nothing. Just a seating card for the program. I was holding it for catering."
My dad didn't answer right away. He rested his hand on the back of my chair. His ring was cool when it brushed my shoulder.
I wanted to say it wasn't a seating card. I remembered seeing her upstairs earlier, opening the clutch and sliding that silver card inside, looking toward the door. But I didn't say anything. My chest felt tight.
Julian turned his head toward the doorway. Ellis was still there, half in shadow where the vertical light cut down the dark door. His earpiece glinted.
"Ellis," my dad said, quiet enough that only our end of the table heard. "Stay here. At the door. No staff in or out until I say."
Ellis gave a single nod. He stepped just inside the dining room and folded his hands in front of his gray suit. He didn't move toward us. He just watched the hallway.
Lorraine's fingers tightened on the clutch. "You're being dramatic. Ellis doesn't need to guard a dinner."
"He's not guarding dinner," my dad said. He finally looked at her directly. "I'm handling this myself."
The chandelier light made the diamonds at her ears sparkle when she turned her head sharply. For a second her composure slipped — her mouth pressed thin, her eyes darting from me to the doorway — and then she smoothed it over.
"Fine," she said. She picked up her water glass with her bracelet catching the light. "Let her sit. But we have people coming. We can't leave the table to chase a child's story upstairs."
"We won't leave now," my dad said. He put his hand gently on my back, between my shoulder blades. I could feel myself breathing again. "We'll finish this seating. We'll greet your donors. And then Emma and I will go upstairs together."
My stomach dropped a little at that. Upstairs together. I didn't want to go back up there with him, but I also didn't want him to go without me. I nodded because he was waiting.
Lorraine set her glass down harder than she meant to. Water sloshed.
"There's nothing upstairs to see," she said quickly. Too quickly.
May you like
My dad didn't argue with her. He just pulled out the chair next to me — his chair — and sat down. He was close enough that his sleeve brushed mine. Ellis remained at the door, still and quiet, and Lorraine kept her palm flat over that black clutch on the dark fabric, like if she held it long enough we would forget it was there.
I stared at my empty white plate and tried to keep my hands from trembling. I was in the chair now, just like he'd said. But I could feel how much Lorraine didn't want me in it, and how much she didn't want us going upstairs after.
