Chapter 1 - The Name in the Service Corridor
Luis’s eyes moved from Alex to me, then back again.
“Mr. Vale,” he said carefully. “The ballroom is asking for you.”
“Tell them I’ll be there in a minute.”
Luis nodded, but he didn’t leave. His gaze had settled on my face with
an expression I couldn’t place.
“Elena?”
I went still.
It had been years since anyone in a black waistcoat had said my name as
if it belonged to a person rather than a staff schedule.
“I’m sorry,” Luis said. “I thought you were—”
“You’re mistaken.”
He looked as if he wanted to argue, but he glanced at Alex and closed
his mouth.
Alex noticed. “You know her?”
“Not exactly, sir.”
“Luis.”
The banquet captain straightened. “I worked stage operations at the
Halcyon Conservatory’s winter showcase. Years ago.”
My fingers tightened around the tray.
“Please don’t,” I said.
Luis’s expression softened. “Of course.”
He disappeared through the swinging doors.
Alex remained in the corridor.
“Elena Ward,” he said, testing the name. “That’s you?”
“It’s printed on my time card.”
“I meant—”
“I know what you meant.”
He looked toward the ballroom. Through the narrow window, I could see
Celeste laughing with a group of donors. She had one hand resting on the
back of Alex’s empty chair. She looked comfortable in the center of a
room arranged to admire her.
“Does she know you?” Alex asked.
“Celeste knows exactly who I am.”
His face changed. “Then why did she laugh?”
“Because she thought nobody would remember.”
I stepped around him. This time, he let me pass.
I delivered the champagne to the service station, signed the tray count,
and spent the next twenty minutes doing what I had been hired to do. I
polished a spill from the edge of a table. I replaced a bowl of lemon
twists. I carried coffee to the foundation’s board members.
But I could feel the ballroom looking for me.
When I returned to the main room, Celeste was standing beside the stage.
Her silver dress caught every light. A string quartet had begun a slow
waltz, and guests were gathering near the dance floor.
She saw me.
“There’s our mystery dancer,” she said.
I kept walking.
“Don’t be shy, Elena.”
The tray in my hands felt suddenly heavy.
Alex stood beside her. He looked uncomfortable now, but he didn’t
interrupt.
Celeste tilted her head. “You remember me, don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“I wasn’t sure. It’s been so long.”
“I remember.”
“Halcyon seems like another lifetime.”
“It was.”
She glanced at the guests around her. “You should tell them. You were
the girl everyone thought would become a star. Then you disappeared.”
I placed the tray on the nearest service table.
“I didn’t disappear. I went home.”
Her expression flickered.
“Of course,” she said. “Your mother was ill.”
The ballroom noise seemed to recede.
Celeste had no right to say my mother’s name as if it were a story she
could use to entertain people.
“Yes,” I replied. “She was.”
Alex looked at her. “Celeste, maybe this isn’t—”
“Oh, darling, I’m only being kind.” She turned back to me. “You must be
proud of how far you’ve come. From the stage to the service corridor.”
The laughter this time was smaller, uncertain.
I looked at her silver dress, at the ankle where the old scar was
hidden, at the confident angle of her chin.
“You’re still dancing my final,” I said.
Her smile vanished.
Only for a second.
Then it returned. “I don’t know what you mean.”
I picked up the tray again.
“I’m sure you don’t.”
I walked away before she could answer.
In the staff room, I sat on a folding chair and pressed my palms against
my knees. I had not cried in front of Celeste at Halcyon, and I wasn’t
going to start now.
My phone buzzed.
A message from my father.
The old envelope is still here. I think you should finally read it.
I stared at the words.
Four years ago, when my mother died, my father had given me a thick
envelope and told me it contained the last paperwork from the academy. I
had been too exhausted to open it. I had put it in a drawer at his
apartment and forgotten about it.
Or tried to.
Another message appeared.
It has your mother’s handwriting on it.
I looked toward the ballroom doors.
For the first time that night, the past was not something Celeste had
May you like
brought into the room.
It was something waiting for me at home.
