I arrived at the gala with no silver dress.
I wore a black suit I'd bought for my first archive conference and a plain white blouse. I pinned my hair back with a clip and left my hands empty. The house where I'd lived was behind me. My boxes were upstairs over the bakery. The old relationship had no place in the clothes I wore.
At the museum entrance, two volunteers checked my name against the guest list.
"Ms. Ellis," one said. "You're listed as a speaker."
"I am?"
She glanced at the clipboard. "Yes. Lead archivist and producer."
The credit had been changed.
Inside, the sail loft glowed with warm lights. The donors stood in small groups, their voices blending with the low music. Along the walls, the exhibit panels carried excerpts from the interviews. Each one named the speaker, wit
