Claire glanced toward Ava’s bare hand as though expecting some membership marker.
“Okay.”
Ava waited.
Nothing.
Claire continued.
“You still need to step away from the car.”
Ava did not move.
“I’m trying to verify whether the plaque violates the donor’s anonymity request.”
Claire stared.
“Who exactly do you think you are?”
The tone shifted.
Nearby conversation softened.
Ava heard it.
She lowered her voice.
“There’s no reason for this to become public.”
Claire gave a short laugh.
“You’re the one making it public.”
Ava looked around.
Claire was holding a microphone.
Still on.
Perhaps she had forgotten.
Several tables could hear.
Ava said:
“You may want to turn that off.”
Claire looked down.
Realized.
Her cheeks flushed.
She pressed the button.
Too late.
People were watching now.
Two women near the stage leaned together.
One smiled.
Not kindly.
Claire’s embarrassment converted rapidly into authority.
A common transformation.
She stepped closer.
“Listen.”
Ava’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“The car is part of tonight’s fundraiser.”
“I know.”
“It’s not a photo prop.”
“I know.”
“It doesn’t belong to guests.”
Ava almost laughed.
Technically, at that exact moment, it still belonged to her.
Title transfer to the charity would become final after midnight.
“I know.”
Claire’s patience snapped.
“Then stop behaving as though it’s yours.”
Silence.
Ava stared at her.
The irony was almost too perfect.
Behind Claire, one of the women laughed quietly.
“Maybe she thinks the dress counts as a raffle ticket.”
The second woman covered her mouth.
Ava looked toward them.
Both were white.
Late thirties.
Beautiful.
Perfectly styled.
One wore emerald satin.
The other black sequins.
They looked away once Ava met their eyes.
Claire did not correct them.
Instead she said:
“Ma’am, buying a dinner ticket doesn’t make you one of our principal benefactors.”
Ava’s expression became very still.
She felt something familiar.
Not anger exactly.
A narrowing.
Focus.
The same state she entered during difficult negotiations.
She adjusted the fringe shawl resting along her forearms.
Then said:
“Interesting.”
Claire frowned.
“What?”
“You’ve spent several minutes deciding what I am.”
“Excuse me?”
“And not once asked why I’m standing here.”
“I did ask.”
“No.”
Ava’s voice remained calm.
“You asked whether I was press.”
“Social media.”
“A sponsor representative.”
Claire opened her mouth.
Ava continued.
“You never asked whether I had a direct connection to the donation.”
Claire’s jaw tightened.
“Do you?”
Ava smiled faintly.
“Now you’re asking.”
The watching circle widened.
A man at table eight turned fully in his chair.
A photographer lowered his camera.
The two fashionable women looked entertained.
Claire looked toward a security supervisor near the stage.
Then back.
“If you’re trying to create some kind of scene—”
“I’m trying to read a plaque.”
“You are interfering with the raffle display.”
“How?”
“By refusing to step away when asked.”