“That. Yes.”
Before I can escape, a hand catches my arm.
“Holly, dear! Evan, darling! How wonderful to find you both together.”
Mabel Bellamy—sharp eyes, burgundy silk, the kind of presence that makes mayors nervous.
“Aunt Mabel,” Evan says. “You made it.” “I never miss my godson’s events.” She surveys the room with satisfaction, then turns to me. “Holly, everything is magnificent. I'm so pleased you worked out.
“Thank you, Mrs. Bellamy. I'm grateful the board took a chance on me with such a tight timeline.”
“A chance? Oh dear, didn't anyone mention? I've had my eye on you since my friend's Yappy Hour event last spring. When the foundation needed someone for the gala, I called Richard and told him exactly who to hire. The board always listens to me. One of the perks of being the founder's sister.”
I feel Evan shift beside me. “You told Richard to hire her?”
“Let's call it a strong recommendation.” Mabel's smile is pure innocence. “The board chose her unanimously based on her portfolio. I just ... ensured they saw it.”
“You orchestrated this,” I say.
“From the beginning,” Evan adds.
Mabel looks between us, delighted. “And look how perfectly it worked out. You two make quite the team.” She pats Evan's cheek. “Your speech is soon, darling. Try not to be boring.”
She glides away toward the head table. Evan and I stand there, processing.
“She played us,” I say.
“She absolutely played us,” Evan agrees.
“I earned this job. My pitch, my ideas?—”
“You did. The board loves your work.”
“So she just created the opportunity.”
“And we chose what to do with it.”
* * *
I'm adjusting the microphone for Evan's speech when Britney waves from across the room. She's wearing the deep purple cocktail dress we picked out together last week, touching her necklace in quick, nervous taps like she's making sure it's still there.
I cross to her quickly.
“Monday's the big day,” I say, squeezing her hand. “First day of nursing residency.”
“I'm terrified I'll forget everything. What if I blank on basic medical terminology? What if they realize I don't belong there?”
“You want to know about my first big gala?” I lean in to whisper. “I called the donor by his dog's name. For the entire evening. His name was Robert. The dog was Mr. Wellington.”
Britney laughs—a real laugh, not the polite one she's been using all evening.
“You didn't.”
“I did. Mixed him up with his dog. And you know what? He donated anyway. Because I was good at my job, even if I was mortal enough to confuse him with his Pomeranian.” I meet her eyes. “You're going to be brilliant. And on the days you're not brilliant, you'll be learning. That's the whole point.”
“The imposter syndrome is real though.”
“So real. But here's the thing—we both belong here. You in that hospital. Me in this ballroom. Even when our brains try to convince us otherwise.”
