The Silence Between

Chapter 13

By the time the media released Eddy, cocktail hour was over and attendants began ushering guests to their seats. Eddy quickly made his way over to Belle but was disconcerted to find that they had been assigned to different tables.

"You're at table 1. That's where all the important people are sitting," she mused. "Well, I guess that makes sense. Good luck." She floated away before Eddy could ask what she meant.

At table 1 sat an assortment of guests above Eddy's pay grade, including two or three big donors, a few members of the board, Rogers, and Brett. Eddy felt Brett's inclusion to be mildly inappropriate—too ostentatious—but who was he to say.

He himself was seated next to an Asian woman in her 40s or 50s. She gave him a warm smile and introduced herself as Grace Lee. Eddy smiled back politely, having read on the program that she was the guest of honor, a managing director at D—bank who'd donated some astronomical sum to Juilliard's. Like the truly rich sometimes did, she understated her wealth by wearing a simple ensemble of black dress and pearl necklace. Still, there was a low-key confidence to her demeanor befitting a banking executive. When she smiled, her crinkles at the corners in a way that Eddy found familiar, but couldn't quite place.

"I've heard a lot about you," she said between small bites of steak. "Good things, from Theodore. We're old neighbors, Ted and I. I'm pleased to finally meet you in person."

"Pleasure's mine," said Eddy. He continued responding to her small talk after that, but in a distracted sort of way, almost on autopilot. His gaze strayed more often than not to Brett, who sat to her other side. It was odd, he thought, that Brett should sit between Grace and Ted, but perhaps that had just been a fluke.

The boy didn't say much and looked somewhat morose, compared to earlier in the evening. His eyes remained more or less glued to his phone screen, looking up only to stab some food from his plate or to respond to meaningless comments by Ted, who seemed intent on drawing him out of his silence. Eddy couldn't suppress a small smile from watching them. Brett clearly didn't have much to say to Ted. But more amusingly, he also seemed totally unfazed, or oblivious, to the fact that he was sitting next to one of the school's biggest sponsors. How very Brett.

"Is something funny?" asked Grace.

Eddy shook his head no.

"So I wanted to say thank you," she continued, "for teaching—"

But Eddy's attention had again been captured by the scene unfolding to her other side. Ted was now thrusting a bowl of olives on Brett. Without thinking, Eddy said, "He doesn't like olives."

A strange hush fell over their section of the table. Brett, Grace, and Ted all turned to him, half-confused, half-astonished—Brett, most of all. "How did you know?" he asked, after a brief pause.

Eddy, who would have liked to retract his statement, tried his best to look nonchalant. "You picked them out at tea the other day. I just happened to notice."

Ted broke out into amused chuckles, dispelling the tension. "I'd heard you were an observant instructor, Eddy, but I didn't know to this extent. Even I wasn't aware, though I've known Brett here for years. Aren't you lucky, Brett?"

But shouldn't you know, Eddy wondered, as conversation at the table resumed and moved on. If you cared about someone, knowing what they liked or disliked was rudimentary, wasn't it? But he put an end to those thought, having noticed that Grace was observing him with interest.

"Sorry, I was distracted. You were saying?"

Before Grace could say whatever it was she wanted to say, the MC had returned to the stage to resume the programming of the night. She quieted everyone down and, after a gushing, over-the-top introduction, invited Grace on stage to her give speech as this year's guest of honor. The audience broke into respectful applause as Grace glided her way through the tables.