Chapter 4 - The Blue Hall Past the Candles
I had both our dessert plates stacked on my forearm when Mr. Balanki looked past the candles and gave me the nod.
It wasn't a big gesture. He tipped his chin toward Lily, who was still perched in that white-upholstered chair at the end of the table with her feet not quite touching the floor. Her hands were folded in her lap like she was afraid to touch anything. "Take her for a minute," he said quietly. "She's had enough heat in here."
I set the plates down on the sideboard and went to her. The dining room was still warm from the sconces and the candle flames bending over the wine glasses. My apron brushed the edge of the white runner when I leaned in. Lily's fingers were cold when they found mine.
"Come on, baby," I whispered. "Let's get some air."
She slid down from the chair without a sound. Her white socks slipped a little on the wood floor, and she caught herself on my dress. Behind us, silverware clinked and the guest in the tuxedo was pushing his chair back, saying something about needing to stand. Nobody stopped us. Nobody needed to. The hallway was right there past the curtains, and the light changed the second we stepped out of it.
The dining room had been gold. The hallway was blue.
It hit my eyes first, then my skin. The sconces in here were off, and whatever came down from the upstairs landing washed everything cooler — the runner on the floor, the framed pictures, Lily's light brown curls. I could hear my own breathing slow down. Lily pressed closer to my leg. Her pink lace dress was thin against the chill, the little bow at her back brushing my wrist.
"Are you cold?" I asked.
She shook her head. She was looking up toward the staircase.
The stairs rose to the left, dark wood with a dark rail, and the blue light got stronger at the top. I had cleaned up there a hundred times and never really looked at it at night. During the day it was just two closed doors and a linen closet. At night, with that light, it felt farther away.
Lily tugged my hand. Not toward the kitchen, where I had meant to take her. Toward the stairs.
"Mom," she said, very low. "That's where."
I crouched down so my face was level with hers. My knees popped. The ruffle of my apron folded against the floor. "Where what, baby? Show me with your eyes. You don't have to go up."
She lifted her chin and pointed with two fingers, not her whole hand, like she didn't want anyone else to see. Past the railing. Second door on the landing, the one with no frame decoration around it. The one I always thought was a storage closet until Mr. Balanki told me the first week never to open it without him there.
"That one," she whispered. "She came out of that one."
I stared at it. From where we stood, I could see the seam of the door and the small dark plate where a lock would be. No light underneath. It was shut tight. I counted the steps in my head without meaning to — seven steps up from the hallway, turn left from the dining room doorway, directly above the sideboard where the extra wine glasses were kept. If someone came down those stairs, they'd walk straight into the blue hallway and then into the warm light of the dining room. Exactly the path Lily had taken earlier.
My throat went dry. "Are you sure that's the door?"
She nodded and her curls moved against her cheeks. She grabbed a fistful of my black sleeve and held on.
I straightened up slowly. I didn't touch the railing. I didn't go up. I just memorized it — closed, locked, second door, blue light on the handle. I told myself I was only noting where my daughter had pointed so I wouldn't get it wrong later if anyone asked.
"Miss Maya."
Selene's voice came from behind us, smooth and close.
I turned. She had followed us out of the dining room without her heels making a sound on the runner. In the blue light her black satin gown looked almost gray, and the diamonds at her throat caught a cold spark. Her small light clutch was tucked under her left arm, held tight against her ribs. She smiled, but her eyes stayed on Lily's hand in mine.
"There you are," she said. "She's half asleep, poor thing. All that sugar and excitement."
Lily pressed her face into my hip. I felt her breath through my dress.
"She's tired," Selene said again, a little firmer, looking at me now. "Kids get confused when they're tired. They mix up rooms. You know how it is."
It wasn't a question. It was a direction.
Before I could answer, Mr. Balanki stepped into the hallway behind her. The warm light from the dining room outlined his shoulders, his long dark hair, the white of his pocket square. He glanced from Selene to me to Lily clinging to my side, then up toward the stairs where Lily had pointed. His left hand rested at his side, and his big gold watch caught the blue for half a second.
"Everything okay out here?" he asked.
"Fine," Selene said quickly. "I was just telling Maya to get Lily to bed early. She's had a long night."
Mr. Balanki didn't answer right away. He looked at Lily. She didn't look up. Her fingers twisted deeper into my apron ruffle.
"Yeah," I said, because someone had to say something. "We'll head that way."
May you like
Selene held her clutch a little tighter and stepped back toward the warm doorway, making room but not leaving. The message was clear enough. No more pointing. No more talk tonight.
I picked Lily up. She was getting heavy for it, at five, but she wrapped her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck and buried her face in my shoulder. Her bow pressed flat between us. I carried her past Selene and past Mr. Balanki, back toward the heat of the candles for just a second before turning for the staff hall, and I didn't look back at that locked door again. I didn't need to. I knew exactly which one she meant.
