Chapter 21: Pick One, Soledad

Alma's POV

The ballroom had four hundred people in it, and every one of them knew my face.

They knew it from the bakery video and from the gate in River Oaks.

I walked in at seven in a green dress, with Emiliano at my elbow.

Ten sealed envelopes hung in a satchel on my arm.

Heads turned all the way across the floor.

The head table sat at the far end, under a banner for the Aldama Foundation.

Soledad was at the center of it in black silk, with her pearls.

An empty chair beside her carried a card in her own hand.

Alma, it said.

I did not sit in it.

The dinner passed, and the board spoke, and a reporter from the newspaper took notes at table nine.

At eight-fifteen the emcee spoke into his microphone.

"A change to our program. The Foundation's former chair has asked to give his remarks to a guest."

Murmurs went through the room.

Soledad's fork stopped halfway to her mouth.

I walked to the stage and took the microphone off its stand.

"Good evening," I said. "My name is Alma Tejeda. Some of you have watched me pick an envelope."

A nervous laugh came from the back.

"I'm going to ask Mrs. Aldama to pick one more."

I carried the satchel down the steps and across the floor.

I set ten cream envelopes on the white tablecloth in front of her plate.

Each had a black seal.

Each had an A pressed into the wax.

Soledad looked at them.

She did not touch her glass or her napkin.

"Pick one," I said.

"This is not appropriate."

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