Naomi arched an eyebrow. “Elena sent you?”
“She asked me to stand in.”
There was a short pause. Naomi didn’t laugh or tease. She just said to her, warmly, “You look beautiful. Very…King.”
Bea laughed, but it caught a little in her throat.
She didn’t dislike the dress. It was elegant. Her hair was smoothed back into a twist she’d never worn before. Even her posture had started to obey the shape of the outfit.
Thankfully there was no press. No cameras. Just women. Dozens of them, in dresses that whispered wealth and philanthropy in equal measure.
Inside, the room smelled of roses and candle wax. Waitstaff moved silently. The table cards were handwritten. They moved farther in, Naomi greeting a few people as they passed.
Bea smiled where she was supposed to. Said thank you when she was told she looked lovely. Nodded when women made polite references to Elena.
No one asked her anything pointed, but everything felt pointed anyway.
She wasn’t a mere participant. She was standing in for Elena King, so she couldn’t falter. Not once.
Naomi glanced over a couple of times. Questions on her face, but nothing she’d ask here. Not with all these eyes.
But even as she held her glass with two fingers the way Margo had demonstrated, Bea couldn’t help thinking,there will be more of these.Rooms like this. Expectations like this. Where Gage wouldn’t always be beside her. Where she wasn’t just Bea anymore, but a silhouette of the King name.
And she’d have to hold that shape. Gracefully. Endlessly. Without cracking.
Chapter Thirty-Six
The video call connected, and her mother’s face filled the screen.
“Beatriz, why do you look so tired?”
“I just finished exams, Umma.”
“Oh. Have you eaten?”
Bea propped her chin on her hand. “Yes, Umma. I had dinner. With vegetables.”
“Only one kind of vegetable?”
“Three, including onion and garlic.”
Her mother gave her a suspicious look, then softened. “Your skin looks good. Maybe you’re happy. Are you happy?”
That was a big question for a Wednesday night in sweatpants. But her heart said yes before her brain could overthink it. “I think so.”
Umma leaned in, inspecting her through the screen. “Is Gage treating you well?”
“Always,” she said. “He’s away right now though.”
Umma pursed her lips. “He called.”
Bea blinked so many times it could’ve been Morse code. “He what?”
“He called your father. A week ago. He invited us to visit for your birthday.”
“And you waited a week to tell me this?”
“I think he meant for it to be a surprise. But I wanted to make sure you wanted us to come.”
