Chapter 6

The ballroom had started to clear as the night wore on. The string quartet had been replaced by a DJ, and the dance floor was packed with guests in various states of celebration — ties loosened, heels kicked off, children spinning in circles under the colored lights.

Mara stood at the edge of the dance floor, watching Ivy dance with Auntie June. The little girl's white ribbon had come completely loose and was trailing behind her like a flag, and she was laughing — that full, unreserved laugh that children have before they learn to hold back.

Douglas had found his way to her side again. He was standing a respectful distance away, nursing a glass of whiskey he'd barely touched.

"She's good at that," he said.

"She's good at everything," Mara said. "She gets it from me."

It was a joke, the kind of easy jab she would have made five years ago, and Douglas surprised her by smiling — a real smile, not the rehearsed curl from earlier.

"That's fair," he said. "She definitely didn't get her rhythm from me. I have two left feet."

"I remember," Mara said.

They stood in silence for a moment, watching the dance floor.

"Camille left," Douglas said. "About twenty minutes ago. She said she needed air, and then she texted me from the car saying she was going back to the hotel."