Chapter 2: The Empty Space Where the Locket Had Rested
Galen stood between Ainsley and me, one hand still lowered after removing Ainsley’s grip from my arm. The reception hall had gone so quiet that I could hear the faint clink of glassware at the engagement table. Warm lights shone across the white cloth, the flowers, and the abandoned place card in front of me. Around us, guests held themselves still, watching without appearing to watch.
I looked down at my collar.
The chain had broken near the clasp. One end lay against my blue dress, twisted into a small silver hook. The other end was gone. My fingers found the empty space beneath my throat where the locket had rested for years. The skin there felt cold, almost exposed. I rubbed the torn links between my thumb and forefinger, counting the sharp little bends as if they could tell me where the pendant had gone.
Ainsley held it near her waist.
She had closed the locket. Her manicured fingers covered the silver casing, but I could see the chain hanging from her hand. When I took one careful step forward, she shifted it behind the folds of her black dress. The movement was small and deliberate. She did not need to say anything. Her possession was the answer.
Galen moved with me, keeping his body between us. His shoulder blocked my view of Ainsley’s hand. He did not reach for the locket, and I understood why. The slap had already turned the room against itself. Another sudden motion might give Ainsley a reason to make me the danger.
At the edge of the hall, a server paused beside a tray of untouched drinks. Two guests near the windows looked toward the doors. Nobody came closer. Nobody asked whether I was hurt. Their silence was not agreement, but it was not protection either.
Ainsley lifted her free hand and made a short, dismissive motion toward the hall’s side entrance. Then she pointed toward the corridor beyond it. Her expression hardened when I did not move. The gesture was clear: leave, or go where she directed.
I kept my eyes on the place where the locket had disappeared. I could not leave without knowing what she intended to do with it. More than that, I could not leave without knowing whether my mother’s room was still open to me.
Galen glanced back at me. His face remained unreadable, but he angled himself so that I stood behind him instead of beside him. It was a temporary boundary, one made from his height and the attention of everyone in the room. Ainsley still controlled the house. She still controlled the event. The boundary would end as soon as he stepped away.
The music began again from the speakers, too soft and too cheerful. A few guests turned toward the tables, pretending the reception had resumed. Someone adjusted a centerpiece. Someone else lifted a glass without drinking. The room accepted the performance because it was easier than accepting what had happened.
Ainsley crossed to a small black evening bag resting beneath the engagement table. She opened it and placed something inside. The silver chain flashed once before the bag closed. Then she removed a ring of keys from the same bag and separated one key from the others.
She held it up where I could see.
It was a narrow brass key, attached to a blue thread.
My mother’s room had always used a blue thread around its key.
May you like
Ainsley walked toward the corridor. At the door, she looked back at me, then turned the key in the lock. The click carried through the resumed music.
She slipped the key into her bag and returned to the reception table, leaving the locked door between me and everything that had belonged to my mother.
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