Chapter Twenty-FiveVALÉRY, AS THE GALA CHAIRPERSON, was already at the front of the hall where a long red carpet led to a short set of steps and a stately dais where a gold lectern was flanked by two tall, potted shrubs. Maggie thought he seemed to be looking for her and, sure enough, he came to intercept her.
“Margaret, there you are. The guests have all arrived.” He took her arm and hustled her toward the lectern. “The Queen will be making her entrance shortly. Do you have your greeting memorized?”
The question snapped Maggie out of her funk. “Yes, or at least I think so…”
Valéry frowned. “Now is not a good time for your mind to be elsewhere.”
Just then, the Smokey Hills Quartet launched into a decidedly twangy version of Beethoven's Minuet in G.
Valéry rubbed his face with a hand.
