A Lasting Impression

champagne, not seeming to notice anything out of the ordinary. “I was complimenting Miss Laurent a moment ago on the reception. It’s magnificent. And I’ve heard some telling reports on you this evening as well.”
    Sutton’s expression sobered. “Is that right, sir?”
    Seeing Sutton’s reaction left no doubt in Claire’s mind that what she’d overheard earlier was true. Wondering why he’d kept the news from her, she scrambled to fill the void in conversation. But Mr. Stanton beat her to it.
    “Mrs. Acklen speaks very highly of your services too, Mr. Monroe.” Andrew Stanton raised his glass. “No wonder she’s doing so well with you two at the helm beside her.”
    Sutton’s laugh came out tight. “And you well know, Mr. Stanton, the only one at the helm around here is Mrs. Acklen. I merely hoist the sails when she tells me to.”
    “And I merely swab the deck,” Claire added, raising her glass.
    They all three laughed.
    “Well . . .” Sutton bowed. “If you’ll both excuse me.” He shifted his focus to Mr. Stanton. “Your kind indulgence of my company has been appreciated, sir.”
    Mr. Stanton shook his hand. “Good to see you again, Monroe.”
    Sutton left without a backward glance, and Claire felt an odd sense of separation in the pit of her stomach.
    “Shall we?” Mr. Stanton gestured toward the small study.
    They visited together over champagne and then over dinner until the orchestra signaled a toast. Along with the other guests, Claire and Mr. Stanton crowded into the grand salon as Mrs. Acklen thanked everyone for their attendance and for their repeated compliments on the “wonderland of lights” in the gardens.
    “And now,” Mrs. Acklen continued, “I’d like to present our most esteemed guest of honor, Madame Octavia Walton LeVert”—applause rose from those gathered—“with a token of my deep appreciation for her personal friendship and for all she’s done for the city of Nashville.”
    Claire felt a flush of pride as Mrs. Acklen presented Madame LeVert with her memory book. Madame LeVert flipped through the pages, tearing up, then expressed an emotional thanks.
    Mrs. Acklen held up the book and described what was inside, then looked in Claire’s direction. “I’d like to thank my trusted personal liaison , Miss Claire Laurent, for crafting this extraordinary gift for my dear friend, and for her ingenuity in coordinating this grand event for us this evening.”
    Applause sounded, and Claire curtsied, appreciating Mrs. Acklen’s public acknowledgment of all she’d done. She caught Mr. Stanton’s quiet “Here, here” as well as the kind nods around her, and she drank in the moment.
    Mrs. Acklen proceeded to call for the toast in honor of Madame LeVert, and glasses of champagne were distributed. Along with everyone else, Claire lifted her glass in salute, searching the crowd for Sutton, wanting to share the moment with him.
    Sensing someone’s attention, she turned and met the gaze of an older gentleman standing across the salon. It took her a moment to place him without the tall black hat, but—in a flash—she remembered where she’d seen him. And the joy inside her evaporated.
    He raised his glass, his smile friendly, not the least bit menacing, and yet she felt a quiver of warning, remembering the day she’d seen him at Broderick Shipping and Freight. Then again on the steps of Holbrook and Wickliffe Law Offices . Claire saw Mildred Holbrook standing close beside him and like a precarious line of dominoes, snippets of seemingly unrelated bits of information fell into place, and she was reminded again of how tenuous her situation was.
    Why, if God had brought her to Belmont, as Eli said, was she constantly reminded that she didn’t belong?
    At a quarter past five in the morning, following the last waltz, the crowd of guests had thinned, but only barely. Claire tucked her hand into the crook of Sutton’s arm. “I don’t think anyone wants to leave,” she whispered, so no one else could hear.
    “You have only yourself to blame. You threw too grand a party.”
    She smiled, wishing she could pull him aside and tell him what she’d overheard about him earlier that evening. Not only so they could talk about it, but so he would know that the review board’s decision was public knowledge, or soon would be.
    And yet, she realized it was his right to tell her when he was ready.
    She glanced around, keeping watch for the older gentleman she’d seen during