SAGE
Dallamore led me to the ballroom.
We took six hundred and forty-five footsteps to get to the ballroom doors, and then I wanted to turn and run.
An extremely tall lady wearing a purple dress and too much lipstick exuberantly approached Dr. Dallamore, which gave me time to take in the scene.
Tables spread across the ballroom, decorated with crystal vases and giant blossoming flowers. Near the stage, the ballroom floor remained open for dancing. People mingled. A live orchestra played in the corner. Tiers of food were displayed along the walls; more food was being delivered by attendants in black and white. Giant glass doors behind the stage led out to the veranda. Up on the stage itself, some sort of rounded glass display sat under a spotlight.
I wished someone were here with me. I wished what Sven said were true, that Beckett would come for me. He always calmed me down in times like this, with lots of people around. He had a way with large groups. People automatically liked him. And no matter how betrayed I felt by him lying to me, no matter how unsure I was that I could forgive him, he was still my friend. If I thought about it honestly, somehow, my heart still trusted him, even though my brain didn’t.
Either way, I wished he were here now.
“Don’t be fooled,” a voice over my shoulder said into my ear, “they’re not real.”
I turned to see Sven.
“Who’s not real?”
“Your eggs. In the petri dish under the glass case on stage. You can see the eggs underneath the magnifying glass. Vasterias wanted a visual to get everyone roused for higher bidding. They even went so far as to freeze and vacuum seal the canister, but it’s all a ruse. They’re not your eggs.”
Sven plucked an hors d’oeuvre from a passing platter.
“I’m sure Dallamore already had a talk with you about not acting up, didn’t he? Because that’s one thing he and I would agree on for the night, until the time is right, at least.”
Sven popped the cheese and olive into his mouth, surveying the ballroom. “Not long now.” His voice held hints of anticipation.
He tossed the skewer onto another passing tray and sauntered into the ballroom, giving me a backward glance. “Nice dress by the way.”
Was Sven’s story too good to be true? Was it actually possible Jack and Beckett would show up tonight, or was he leading me on for motives of his own? And if so, what could they be?
“Come, my friend, it’s almost time to go inside,” Dallamore said, waving off the lipstick lady and collecting himself beside me again.
At the same time, a man in a white tuxedo mounted the stage stairs. The man tapped the microphone on the podium, ensuring it was on.
“Welcome, everyone. If I can have your attention, please.” The conversations around the room quieted.
“My name is Dr. Marshall Mitchell, and on behalf of the entire board of Vasterias Enterprises International, myself included, we would like to welcome you this evening. We have much progress to share with you tonight, specifically in our genetics division. We know you’ve all been anxiously waiting to hear more, and we thank you for your patience. We will begin the presentation in just a few minutes, followed by the bidding, but first, I’d like you all to join me in welcoming our guest of honor. For without whom, this night would not be possible.”
Dr. Mitchell waved his hand to the back of the room, toward where Dallamore and I stood. A few people began to whisper, most everyone turned to look to the back of the ballroom. I glanced around, wondering if he was talking about the lipstick lady. But no one else was standing near us.
Something heavy dropped straight to the pit of my stomach just before Marshall Mitchell finished his words.
“Would you all please join me in a warm welcome for the daughter of the late Dr. Robert Cunningham. Ladies and gentlemen, our very own, Hope Elizabeth Cunningham.”