Chapter 6: The Hall of State

I sewed the dress in six nights at my grandmother's cutting table.

It was red crepe, cut on the bias, with a low back and a slit that started well above the knee.

Yesi drove me to Fair Park in her salon van and told me four times that I was going to give someone a stroke.

The Hall of State has a ceiling of gold leaf and a map of Texas covering one whole wall.

Five hundred people in black tie stood under it with champagne, and every one of them turned to look at the red dress.

A volunteer with a clipboard found my name on her list.

"Ybarra," she said. "Table forty-one. Back of the hall, by the kitchen doors."

"Who did the seating?"

"Mrs. Kellum, personally."

"Of course she did," I said.

Table forty-one held two retired bank wives, a dentist, and a waiter who kept using our bread basket as a shelf.

I sat down in my red dress with my spine straight.

One of the wives leaned over to me.

"Honey, are you the one from the luncheon?"

"I am."

"I wanted to stand up and clap," she whispered. "My husband wouldn't let me."

I decided I liked table forty-one.

Then a man in a silver tuxedo crossed the room with a drink in each hand and stopped beside my chair.

He had silver hair, tan skin and a careful smile, and he had been charming people for money for thirty years.

"Mrs. Kellum," he said. "What a pleasure."

"It's Ybarra."

"Forgive an old friend of the family. Bishop Terrell." He set one of the drinks in front of me. "I've known Levi since he was in short pants."

"I'll be sure to tell him."

"Would you? He's not returning my calls." His smile didn't move. "Tell him Friday still stands."

"I don't carry his messages."

"No," Terrell said. "I imagine you don't."

He looked me over in the red dress, slowly, and went away.

I pushed the drink to the waiter.

A moment later every head in the hall turned toward the main aisle.

Levi was crossing the floor.

He wore a black tuxedo that I had taken in at the waist, and it fit him exactly.

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