Chapter 5 - I Counted My Steps Back To The Bar
The service hallway was colder than the ballroom, and the air smelled like lemon polish and old ice. I sat on a stacked crate with my tray on my knees and tried not to cry again.
Diane had told me to stay put and stay out of sight. She hadn't said for how long. The wall clock ticked too loud. Every time the kitchen door swung, I heard the clink of glasses and a wash of music that cut off quick.
I pulled the little order pad from my apron. Most servers didn't use one anymore, but I liked writing things down. My handwriting was shaky from that night.
Table 6 - 2 champagne. Table 9 - 1 club soda. Bar pickup - 3 white wine.
I stared at it and started walking it back in my head. I had to know exactly where I'd been before Victoria stopped me in the middle of that floor.
First run after the toast, I remembered. I'd taken two champagnes to the couple by the north columns. The man had snapped his fingers at me without looking. I could still see the marble veining under my shoes, the way the light from the chandelier hit it and threw it back up. I'd set the glasses down careful and picked up an empty.
Second run, I went to the bar. Luis was slammed. He'd slid a club soda across and said, "For the lady in green," and I carried it to Table 9 near the side. That was on my pad. That matched.
It was the third run that made my stomach drop. Three white wines in stemmed glasses, tray heavy on my left hand. Luis had poured them slow. I'd waited. And while I waited, Rosa from catering had leaned in past me for napkins and said the foundation office needed more water carafes for the after-meeting.
I remembered nodding like I could help, even though I couldn't. I didn't even know where the office was then.
I closed my eyes and saw it again. Leaving the bar with the three wines, turning right instead of left because the main aisle was blocked by a photographer. I went the long way around, past the columns on the east side where it was darker. The music got quieter back there. I passed a hallway with double doors propped open, warm light spilling out, a plaque on the wall I didn't read.
I opened my eyes. My heart was hammering. That had to be the east hallway. That had to be the place they'd meant when Diane said "near the office." I hadn't stopped. I swear I hadn't stopped. But I'd walked right past it with a full tray.
The kitchen door banged and Jess came in with a bus tub. She was twenty-eight, fast, tired. She glanced at me and set the tub down hard.
"You okay?" she said.
I shook my head. "They benched me. Mrs. Romano thinks I was snooping by the office."
Jess frowned and wiped her hands on a towel. "When?"
"Maybe twenty minutes ago? I took wines around the east side. I cut past that hallway by the, you know, the office doors. I didn't go in. I just walked by."
She was quiet for a second. Then she said, "I saw you there."
My throat tightened. "You did?"
"Yeah. I was coming out of the linen closet down that hall. You had three wines. You looked stressed." She gave a little shrug. "You didn't stop. You kept going toward the tables."
Relief hit me so fast I almost laughed. Someone had seen me. Someone knew I didn't stop.
"Would you tell Diane that?" I said. "Please? Just that you saw me keep walking."
Jess hesitated. She looked at the door like she was checking who might hear. "I can tell her what I saw. I don't want to get in the middle of the Romanos, Mara. You get it."
"I get it," I said, and I did. But my hands were shaking. "I just need someone to say I wasn't in there."
She picked up her tub again. "I'll tell her if she asks me straight. I gotta get back out."
She left, and the hallway went quiet again. It wasn't enough. *If she asks me straight* meant maybe never. Victoria wasn't asking questions. She'd already decided.
I looked down at my pad. Bar pickup - 3 white wine. East side detour. Linen closet. Double doors.
If Jess saw me, maybe someone else did. If that hallway was near the foundation office, there had to be a reason they'd care. Maybe there was a camera over the doors. This was a mansion that hosted charity galas. Rich people's houses always had cameras.
I stood up. My legs felt weak from sitting, and my black dress stuck to the back of my knees. I wasn't supposed to leave the crate. Diane had said stay. But staying meant letting Victoria's version sit there unchallenged while the guests kept whispering.
I set my tray on the crate and slipped my pad back into my apron.
I wasn't going into the office. I wasn't touching anything. I just needed to look at that hallway again, see where the doors were, see if there was a little red light or a dome in the ceiling, see if the linen closet had a sightline.
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I pushed through the service door toward the east side. The ballroom noise swelled for a second — glasses, laughter, that low string music — then faded as I cut behind the columns.
My shoes were silent on the marble as I headed east.
