Chapter 32: Anniversary

The next September, the ballroom at the Hollis Grand smelled of lilies and lemon polish, and every door along the east wall stood open.

Nobody in the room remarked on it anymore.

It was a rule of the house now, written into the foundation's bylaws in Margit's own upright hand.

I stood at the side of the stage in a midnight-blue gown, with my left hand bare.

On its fourth finger was a plain gold ring.

I had bought it myself in August, in a shop on Grand Avenue.

I had asked for it a half size large, because that finger did not close all the way.

The jeweler had not made me say why.

Out in the room, Elin was waving her napkin at me from the front table.

Beside her sat Dr. Koski and his sister, arguing happily over the bread basket.

Margit sat at the head table with her pearls and her programme, and when she saw me look, she lifted two fingers from the cloth.

It was as close to a wave as she came.

Soren sat beside her.

He had not been told what I meant to do.

I had said only that I would speak.

The foundation's chair finished the report on the Holm Scholarship, which had put forty-one children on the dock at Little Sable Lake that June.

The foundation's chair said every one of them went home with a whistle on a cord.

Then Soren looked at me, and I walked out to the microphone.

I put my hand on the stand.

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