A hotel executive hurried forward to welcome her, followed by a donor whose practiced smile seemed fixed too firmly in place. Serafina exchanged a few words, declined a glass of champagne, and asked for the table beside the window. When she crossed the room, conversations dropped in volume without entirely stopping. People moved aside as though they had agreed on a rule nobody remembered making.
She sat alone. The hotel staff placed tea and lunch in front of her, arranged the silverware with unnecessary precision, and retreated. Everett noticed that she spoke politely to the server but barely looked at the food. For half an hour she watched guests laughing beneath the chandeliers, then turned toward the window where children were jumping over snow piled along the pavement.
Bell directed Everett to carry fresh tea to her table shortly before one. Everett felt the young server beside him relax when the assignment went elsewhere. He crossed the ballroom with the teapot balanced in his hand, aware that the expensive carpet muffled his footsteps. At the table, he saw the untouched meal, the empty second chair, and a folded card bearing the name of a person who had apparently never arrived.
"May I refresh your tea, ma'am?" he asked.
Serafina looked up. "Please."
Her voice did not match the stories. It was low and precise, but not unkind, and the thank-you she offered when he finished sounded sincere. He nodded and stepped back, then paused when the expression in her eyes returned to the families outside. There were times when a person looked lonely because the room was empty, and other times when the room was full but nobody knew how to reach them. Everett recognized the second kind, because he had lived with it for three years.
He had been on his feet since before dawn, and the chair beside her was empty. He told himself he would rest for only a moment, make sure she did not want anything else, and leave before Bell noticed. He pulled the chair back carefully, sat down, and looked out at the snow. The room kept celebrating around them, unaware that two lives were about to turn in a new direction.
For a few seconds, neither person spoke. Everett expected Serafina to ask why a temporary worker had taken a seat at a donor's table, and he was prepared to apologize without making a scene. Instead, she turned from the window and regarded him with something close to curiosity. Across the ballroom, Bell noticed the seated figure, stopped in the middle of giving instructions, and began walking toward them with a face that made the young servers scatter.
"Mr. Hale," Bell said when he reached the table, his voice carefully restrained. "I'm afraid there's been a misunderstanding about the seating arrangements."
Everett had already begun to rise when Serafina lifted a hand. "There is no misunderstanding, Mr. Bell. I asked him to stay."
She had not, strictly speaking, but Everett could tell she wanted to spare him an unpleasant exchange. Bell bowed his head slightly, offered to bring anything she required, and withdrew with the stiffness of a man who disliked a situation he could not control. Serafina waited until he was out of earshot before allowing herself a small smile.