Chapter 20: Two Minutes

On Saturday night the pavilion held four hundred people in black tie.

Members had driven in from three counties, and the string lights made every glass on every table shine.

I wore a plain green dress that the stand woman had hemmed on her kitchen table.

Over it I wore Gran's red barn coat, because nobody was going to tell me to take it off.

Dalton stood at the foot of the stage in a black tuxedo, with his smile fixed in place.

He pulled out my chair at the head table.

"Han," he said, very low.

"Hannah."

He swallowed, and sat down beside me.

At table one, directly below the stage, Piper's husband sat alone.

Piper wasn't with him.

At the back of the hall, a plywood booth on stilts showed one small green light in its window.

I knew who was behind that light.

I put my hand in the pocket of the coat, where Gran's reading glasses lay folded on top of Dalton's page four.

Dinner came and went, and I ate none of it.

At eight-thirty the lights dropped, and a spotlight found the podium.

"Ladies and gentlemen," the master of ceremonies said, "the founder of Redwing Air Rescue."

The room stood up.

Dalton walked to the podium with one hand lifted, and the applause rose to meet him.

He waited for it to die.

He was very good at this.

"Thank you. Thank you all."

He looked out over the hall with a warm, damp look.

"This has been the hardest month of my life."

A murmur of sympathy went through the tables.

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