Her eyes filled.
She had forgotten what applause felt like.
No.
That was not true.
She remembered exactly.
That was why it hurt.
For one terrible second, she saw her parents in the crowd.
Not really.
Memory.
Her mother standing first.
Her father clapping too loudly.
Emma covered her mouth.
Tears escaped.
Richard stood several feet away.
Nobody looked at him.
He had vanished inside the scene he created.
Hartford walked toward Emma.
“What is your name?”
She wiped her cheek.
“Emma.”
“Emma what?”
“Rivers.”
Hartford stopped.
His face changed.
“Emma Rivers.”
She nodded.
He knew the name.
Not immediately from newspapers.
From programs.
Competitions.
A Juilliard showcase three years earlier.
A girl described by one professor as possessing “rare technical discipline combined with extraordinary narrative instinct.”
Hartford whispered:
“You studied with Elena Vasquez.”
Emma stared.
“Yes.”
He smiled with disbelief.
“I knew it.”
Richard looked between them.
“What?”
Hartford turned toward the room.
“This young woman was trained at Juilliard.”
A murmur spread.
Emma looked down.
Richard’s mouth opened.
“No.”
Hartford turned toward him.
“No?”
Richard looked at Emma.
“That doesn't make sense.”
She met his eyes.
“What part?”
He glanced toward her clothes.
The mistake became visible before he spoke.
Emma understood anyway.
“You mean because I look like this.”
Richard recovered poorly.
“I mean your circumstances.”
Emma stood from the bench.
Her knees weakened slightly.
Hartford caught her elbow.
“Easy.”
The restaurant manager hurried forward.
“Food.”
“Please.”
“Sit.”
Emma looked toward the plate Richard had pulled away earlier.
Suddenly she could not bear the sight.
“I’m okay.”
She was not.
Hunger and adrenaline collided.
The floor shifted.
Hartford guided her into a chair.
The manager immediately ordered:
“Soup.”
“Bread.”
“Water.”
“Something light.”
Richard stepped closer.
“This has become ridiculous.”
Several heads turned.
He felt the hostility immediately.
“I offered her an opportunity.”
The woman recording laughed.
“You pulled food away from a hungry girl.”
Richard’s face tightened.
“I was making a point.”
Hartford answered:
“You were making a person into a prop.”
Richard looked around.
“Everyone participated.”
“No.”
Hartford pointed toward Emma.
“She participated because she needed food.”
“Those are not equal positions.”
Richard's expression hardened.
“You're moralizing after the fact.”
Hartford shook his head.
“I asked you to be quiet before I knew who she was.”
That silenced him.
Emma looked at Hartford.
That mattered.