Chapter 1: The Empty Chair

“You’re going to be late because of a necktie.”

Nathan Cole looked at his daughter through the bedroom mirror. Emma leaned against the doorframe in a sweatshirt with Saturn across the front, watching him wrestle a strip of blue silk that had already defeated him twice.

“I’m conducting a controlled experiment,” he said.

“You’re losing.”

“Experiments need results.”

She crossed the room, untied the knot, and started again. Nathan held still. At eleven, Emma had somehow learned to tie a necktie from a video, while he had spent twenty years attending events where nobody cared if he wore one.

“Daniel will be glad you came,” she said.

“I know.”

“Then stop looking at the invitation like it says jury duty.”

Nathan glanced at the cream envelope on his dresser. Daniel Hart had first hired him to rebuild a staircase. After enough Saturday mornings working together, they had become friends. Nathan wanted to see him get married.

The problem was the venue.

The Bennett Grand was the sort of Cincinnati hotel where people left their cars with valets and did not ask what parking cost. Nathan’s truck had a cracked dashboard. His suit was six years old.

Emma tightened the knot. “Mom would tell you to go.”

Nathan’s eyes moved to the photograph beside the invitation. Laura stood on a windy beach with a five-year-old Emma between them, laughing as her hair blew across her face.

She had been gone five years. Nathan could get through most days without thinking about the hospital. Some evenings still caught him unprepared.

“Your grandmother will be here at seven,” he said.

“She texted me.”

“No horror movies.”

“She said we can watch one.”

“I’m going to have a word with her.”

Emma smoothed his tie. “Have a good time first.”

By the time Nathan reached the Bennett Grand, snow had started to fall. He surrendered his truck keys to a valet who treated the vehicle with admirable professionalism, then followed the sound of music up a marble staircase.

Daniel spotted him before he could retreat.

“You made it.” The groom hugged him hard. “I was beginning to think you’d found another emergency staircase.”

“I checked yours on the way in. Still crooked.”

“That’s why I married someone who can afford a better house.”

Daniel was drawn into a photograph, leaving Nathan to find his table. It sat near the edge of the ballroom, far enough from the band for conversation. One chair was empty.

Beside it sat a woman in a dark navy dress. She held a cup of coffee between both hands. A man approached her, recognized her, and promptly changed course. Two women at the next table lowered their voices when they looked her way.

Nathan pulled out the empty chair. “Is someone sitting here?”

She studied him for a moment. “No.”

“Good. These shoes are trying to break my feet.”

Her mouth twitched. “You chose them.”

“I trusted the salesman. It was a mistake.”

She laughed, then seemed surprised she had.

Nathan sat down. Up close, she looked close to his age, with dark hair pinned at the nape of her neck and a face that gave very little away until she smiled. She had no jewelry beyond a narrow gold ring on her right hand.

“Bride or groom?” he asked.

“Bride. We went to college together.”

“Groom. I fixed his staircase.”

“That sounds like a short conversation.”

“He kept asking questions. Eventually I had to invite him for coffee.”

“What happened to the staircase?”

“It’s still standing.”

“High praise.”

“It’s a very good staircase.”

She smiled into her cup. Across the room, someone called her name, then thought better of interrupting. Nathan noticed the way her shoulders settled only after the person walked away.

“I’m Nathan.”

“Victoria.”

“Nice to meet you, Victoria.”

Her gaze stayed on him a second longer than he expected.

“What?” he asked.

“Nothing.” She set down her cup. “What do you do besides rescue staircases?”

“Custom woodwork. Old houses, mostly. Cabinets people shouldn’t have painted. Doors that won’t close because the building has spent a century changing its mind.”

“That sounds patient.”

“On a good day. What do you do?”

“I work in hotels.”

He looked around. “This one?”

“Sometimes.”

“Does that mean you can tell me where they hid the coffee?”

“It’s directly behind you.”

Nathan turned. A silver urn stood six feet away.

“Excellent,” he said. “I’ve been here ten minutes and already embarrassed myself.”

“Only once?”

“I’m pacing myself.”

Victoria laughed again, and this time she made no effort to stop.

His phone vibrated. Emma had sent a photograph from her grandmother’s couch. She held a bowl of popcorn nearly as large as her head.

Nathan typed,

Save some for Grandma.

The reply came immediately:

No promises.

“Your daughter?” Victoria asked.

“Emma. Eleven. Currently under the influence of her grandmother and an unreasonable amount of butter.”

Victoria glanced at the picture when he turned the screen toward her. “She has your eyes.”

“She’ll tell you she has better eyes.”

“Is her mother home tonight?”

Nathan turned the phone over. “Laura died five years ago.”

Victoria’s expression softened. “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.”

She let the silence stand. Nathan appreciated that. Most people rushed to fill it, or asked how Laura had died, as if the answer would help them know what to say.

“My father died seven years ago,” Victoria said after a while.

“Were you close?”

“Very.”

He nodded. The bride and groom entered to a burst of applause. Victoria watched them cross the room with an expression Nathan understood now: happiness for her friend, and the sudden memory of someone absent from her own table.

A man in a tuxedo stopped beside her. “Victoria. Eleanor has been looking for you.”

“I’ll see her after dinner, Charles.”

“The development guests leave early. They were hoping—”

“After dinner.”

Charles looked at Nathan, then back at Victoria. “Of course.”

When he moved away, Nathan reached for his coffee.

“You could have gone,” he said.

“I know.”

She sounded tired. Nathan thought of Emma’s instruction to have one good thing happen tonight. Perhaps Victoria could use the same advice.

The band finished its lively song. A slower one began, and couples rose from their tables.

Victoria’s eyes followed them for just a moment.

Nathan stood and offered his hand.

“Would you like to dance?”

Her gaze dropped to his rough palm. Beyond him, Charles had turned to watch.

“Do you know who you’re asking?” she said.

“Nathan Cole,” he replied. “I’d hope so. We’ve been talking for twenty minutes.”

Victoria looked at his face, searching for a joke he hadn’t made.

Then she placed her hand in his.