Chapter 1 - THE FIRST TURN
The first note of the waltz rose above the ballroom, and for one terrifying second I could not move. Five hundred faces waited. Walter Ashford stood beside his wife with the confidence of a man who had never doubted the outcome of anything.
Vivian extended one elegant hand. “Shall we?”
I looked at my service shoes. The soles were worn, and a strip of black tape held the left one together. My right knee ached in the familiar way it did before rain. Twelve years ago, that ache had been the smallest of my problems.
“I’m ready,” I said.
Vivian began with perfect rise and fall. Her frame was beautiful, her timing precise. She moved as though the ballroom had been built around her. The guests applauded after the first sequence.
I waited for the second phrase. Then I stepped into the music.
My first turn was cautious. Memory and muscle were not the same thing. My hip pulled, my knee protested, and I adjusted. I used what remained: timing, balance, musicality, and the ability to make a simple step tell a story.
The audience stopped laughing.
May you like
When the music ended, silence filled Ashford Tower. Then Ethan Ashford began to clap. Margaret Voss, former director of the National Ballroom Championship, rose from her chair and approached me with tears in her eyes.
“Claire Bennett?” she whispered. “We thought you were dead.”
