Chapter 6 - The Quiet Corner of the Foyer
The hum of the ballroom filtered through the heavy oak doors, a muffled murmur of strings and champagne glasses clinking in polite celebration. Out in the quiet foyer, away from the glittering chandelier and the watchful eyes of the foundation trustees, Lily sat perched on a low velvet bench beside the service desk. The young waitress, whose blonde hair was pulled back in a neat, professional knot beneath her black uniform jacket, knelt beside the toddler with a small glass of ginger ale resting on her silver serving tray.
"You did a very brave thing back there, Lily," the waitress said softly, her voice carrying a warm, steady cadence that seemed to soothe the lingering tension in the air. "Even if the grownups were a bit confused."
Lily clutched a blue hair bow that had slipped from her curls, her blue eyes wide and solemn. "I wasn't confused. The lady left her tummy on the chair by the mirror. It looked like a big pancake made of jelly."
The waitress smiled gently, though a shadow of unease crossed her features. She looked up as my footsteps approached along the marble hallway. My black tuxedo jacket felt tight across my chest, the bowtie pressing against my collar as I stepped into the alcove. The weight of the silicone prosthetic shell I had left hidden in the upstairs dressing room seemed to hang between us, an invisible anchor dragging down the frivolous glamour of the evening.
"Mr. Marcelo," the waitress acknowledged, rising smoothly to her feet while balancing the silver tray with practiced grace. "Is everything alright downstairs? The co-chair has been asking for you."
"Everything is under control," I replied, my voice measured. I stopped a few feet from the bench and knelt down until my eyes were level with Lily’s. The three-year-old stared back at me without blinking, wearing her dark velvet dress with its stiff white lace collar like a small, serious judge. "Lily. You have a very good memory."
"Mommy says I pay too much attention," Lily answered instantly, tilting her head. "Are you going to tell the lady in pink that she dropped her jelly?"
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"I think the lady knows," I said quietly, glancing back down the corridor toward the service stairwell where Clara had retreated. "Sometimes grownups try to wear things that don't belong to them because they're afraid of what people will say."
"That's silly," Lily declared, taking a cautious sip of her ginger ale. "If you wear something that doesn't fit, you just take it off."
