Chapter 4
Bryn
The Belmeade Center for Performing Arts had been transformed overnight into a twinkle-light-infested garden. Dozens, maybe hundreds, of potted shrubs and sculpted hedges had been brought into the lobby and lounges, each festooned with subtle yellow-and-white bulbs. Spotlight gels had been set up, hidden by more greenery draped from the high ceilings, and forest patterns played over the carpets and marble floors. The three enormous crystal chandeliers hanging in the atrium blazed with fake candlelight and illuminated the sweeping open staircases and packed front hall. The thirty-foot glass windows lining the front of the Belmeade reflected the carefully lit paradise and sandwiched guests between reality and illusion.
Bars had appeared every ten feet, and bartenders in rent
