“Ireland Sewell.”
My spine locked up, ears ringing a high pitch like a microphone with feedback.
“I won’t ask you to come up here.”
I let out an audible breath of relief, and a few people nearby laughed knowingly.
Knowingly.
Lordy.
Rubbing my fingers on the material of my skirt again, I tried to arrange my face into something neutral and less scowl-like.
“I know you’d never forgive me,” Ari continued, “but I wanted to thank you too. For everything, my dear. I am happy to know you.”
Tears gathered in my eyes, and the woman who had become my friend—whose late husband had been my first friend here—turned hazy.
Ari looked down at the lectern, and I blinked rapidly as I bowed my head too.
She said something else, but I missed it as my eyes flicked toward the exit. It would be so easy to slip away. To go next door and close myself inside the Cadillac to nowhere. To sit back against the leather and wait in the quiet for Adair to find me.
But just thinking his name brought me back into myself, and I raised my chin, listening back in.
“It is my great honor to announce that, along with Live Oak’s generous matching contribution, we have exceeded our goal.” She sniffed, dabbing at her eyes before straightening her shoulders. “Construction on Live Oak’s fully accessible greenhouse will begin in two weeks.”
The applause was louder this time, Miss Lenny’s whistling cutting through it all.
I wrapped my arms around myself as she concluded her speech with words I didn’t process before Director Links took the podium, her box braids in an elegant low bun, her makeup and gown flawless. She thanked everyone again, did a little spiel about the work at Live Oak, the Locc, and Zinnia House, and then gave a rundown of the gala’s timeline—dance, dinner, mingle.
It would be short. Purposely so.
Once the applause that followed died down, our carefully crafted playlist began. Most songs were still in 3/4 time, but they’d done so well in class that I’d also taught them a basic foxtrot, so there were some songs in 4/4 as well.
The trumpet intro of “Tennessee Waltz” by Patti Page streamed through the speakers just as a warm presence slid up beside me.
“Cherie,” Cody said, bumping his hip into my side. “A dance?”
“Need a warmup before whisking Liem across the floor?” I asked, taking in his dark-blue suit.
“Sure,” he murmured, offering me his elbow.
Cody was quiet as he led me into the dance, his movements confident.
“You’ve practiced.”
He shrugged, not hiding his smirk when he spun me perfectly. “I had a more than competent teacher.”
When the song ended, I gave Cody a little curtsy, which he returned with a bow.
“Thanks for the dance, Cherie.”
We shared soft smiles before he scanned the room, his hazel eyes flaring when he caught sight of Liem, and then he stalked after him like he was prey.
I resisted the urge to look around for Adair or Dad again and went to the lectern to grab my tablet I’d stashed there earlier. Thanks to the nametags, it was relatively easy to find the people who had paid for dance card spots. Once I got a few couples going, everyone became more comfortable, and by the time the second song started, the dance floor was nearly full.
Mocktails and water were available at every corner of the room, ensuring no one got dehydrated, and I took a break a few songs later to hydrate. I sighed in relief when I detected no alcohol in the purple drink, eyeing Miss Lenny as she danced tirelessly in the center of the dance floor. I probably should’ve had someone make sure she hadn’t spiked these before now.
A couple brushed by me, a soft hand grazing my arm as they went. My heart skipped, then squeezed as Pops and Delly walked onto the floor. Delly looked over her shoulder at me, still radiant in her deep red gown, smiling so big I couldn’t help but smile back.
