She kept her head down slightly, but I could see the anxiety rattling her from head to toe.
"You okay?" I asked as we cleared the chaos of the crowd outside, and she nodded, but her lips were pressed into a thin line.
I could tell right away she was lying to me, but I figured she was just holding herself together.
I hated that she felt that way.
I'd have done anything to help her relax.
We stepped into the grand ballroom, and the noise hit us immediately.
Hundreds of voices competing, glasses tinkling, a string quartet playing near the far wall.
Donors in expensive gowns and tailored suits filled the space, clustering in groups around cocktail tables.
I recognized most of them—board members, major contributors, local politicians who showed up every year for the photo opportunities.
A server approached with a tray of champagne. I took two glasses and handed one to Ember. She accepted it gratefully and took a small sip.
"How long do these usually last?" she asked quietly. Her voice was tiny compared to the cacophony of the room, and it made me feel protective over her.
"Three hours. Sometimes four if the speeches run long." I scanned the room, already spotting the people I needed to speak with during the evening. "We'll make the rounds, sit through dinner and the program, and then we can leave."
"Sounds manageable."
I guided her toward the first group—a cluster of board members and their spouses standing near the auction display.
They greeted me warmly, congratulating me again on the Lightkeeper appointment and asking about upcoming hospital initiatives.
I introduced Ember as my assistant and Hearthkeeper, and they shook her hand with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
One of the board members, a man in his sixties with gray hair and an expensive watch, gave Ember an appraising look that made my jaw tighten. "Well, Dr. Bradley, you certainly know how to pick them."
Ember's smile faltered slightly.
I watched her tense up and shrink into herself without ever saying a word.
"Ms. Harrison is extremely competent," I said calmly. "I'm fortunate to have her on my team."
"I'm sure you are." The man's wife elbowed him sharply, and he cleared his throat. "What I meant to say is, it's wonderful to see young professionals getting involved in community traditions."
I nodded stiffly and guided Ember away, and we did the same thing on repeat for an hour.
None of the men in this room were bold enough to come right out and say what they were thinking, but more than once, a wife chimed in with a comment about how young Ember was.
Every last comment seemed to add weight to her shoulders that took the poised, gorgeous woman on my arms down a few notches so she looked tired and beaten up.
By the time we found our assigned table for dinner, my shoulders ached from tension.
Our tablemates included three other hospital board members and their guests, plus a major donor and his wife.
I pulled out Ember's chair for her, then took the seat to her right.
She kept her head down while I talked frankly about business, though I would much rather have been talking to her about us.
The longer we spoke, the more tense it was until dinner was served.
Then the donor's wife leaned across the table and smiled at Ember.
