Then Eleanor approached and placed a hand on my shoulder.
“Amelia, the judges have reached a decision.””
I blinked.
“About the competition?””
“Yes.””
I had almost forgotten the pageant was still happening.
Eleanor turned toward the microphone.
“The final round will continue as scheduled. However, the judges have agreed that Amelia’s design will receive special consideration for originality, craftsmanship, and resilience under extraordinary circumstances.””
Vanessa made a strangled sound.
“You’re rewarding her for making a scene?””
Eleanor’s eyes hardened.
“No. I’m recognizing a designer who transformed damaged materials into something extraordinary. That is precisely what fashion is supposed to do.””
The applause began again.
I looked at the judges’ table and realized something strange.
For the first time that evening, I wasn’t thinking about winning.
I wanted the truth.
When I finally stepped backstage, Rachel hurried toward me with a bottle of water.
“Are you okay?””
“No.””
She nodded as though that were a perfectly reasonable answer.
“Do you need help with your dress?””
I looked down at the blue flowers.
“Just a needle and thread.””
Rachel led me into the dressing room and shut the door.
For a moment, the noise of the auditorium faded.
I sat at the dressing table and examined the dress. The silver paint had dried in uneven patterns, and a few tiny crystals had fallen from the bodice.
My hands began to tremble again.
Not because of Vanessa.
Because I was afraid of what I might discover.
Rachel sat beside me.
“Who was your mother?””
I smiled faintly.
“Catherine. She was the kind of person who saved every ribbon from a birthday present because she believed it might be useful someday.””
“She sounds lovely.””
“She was.””
I touched one of the blue flowers.
“I used to think she was just a woman who liked sewing. Dad said she gave up everything to raise me.””
Rachel tilted her head.
“And now?””
“Now I think she might have built something extraordinary, and someone made sure I never knew about it.””
A knock sounded at the door.
Rachel stood.
“Who is it?””
“It’s Daniel Reeves,” came the reply.
“Amelia, I need to speak with you privately.””
I opened the door.
Daniel stood alone, holding a slim black folder.
“The trustees have authorized a preliminary review of your mother’s estate,” he said.
“But before we proceed, I need to ask you something important.””
“What?””
“Has anyone ever given you a key, a letter, or any other item that belonged to your mother and was supposed to remain in your possession until you turned eighteen?””
I frowned.
“No. Why?””
Daniel opened the folder and removed a photograph.
It showed my mother standing outside a brick building, holding a little girl in her arms.
Me.
I recognized the red coat I had worn when I was five. I remembered the day because Mom had bought me hot chocolate afterward, and I’d spilled half of it on her scarf.
Pero no reconocí el edificio.
Detrás de nosotros, una placa de bronce estaba colocada junto a la entrada.
* CASA DE DISEÑO CATHERINE LANE *
Me quedé mirando la fotografía.
“¿Qué es este lugar?”
Daniel me miró a la cara.
“Era el estudio de tu madre. Según los registros de propiedad, ella era la dueña absoluta del edificio. Nunca se vendió ni se transfirió a tu padre.”
“¿Entonces quién es el dueño ahora?”
Daniel vaciló.
“Ese es el problema. La propiedad sigue registrada a nombre de Catherine Lane, pero alguien ha estado pagando los impuestos y manteniendo el edificio durante los últimos dieciocho años.”
“¿OMS?””
Le dio la vuelta a la fotografía.
En el reverso, la letra de mi madre formaba una sola frase.
Si Amelia alguna vez viene en busca de la verdad, llévala a la habitación que hay debajo de las escaleras.
Levanté la vista.
“¿Hay una habitación debajo de las escaleras?”
Daniel asintió lentamente.
“Y el conserje del edificio me acaba de informar de que alguien entró a robar esta mañana.”
Mi corazón latía con fuerza contra mis costillas.
“¿Se llevaron algo?”
La expresión de Daniel se ensombreció.
“Nada en la habitación.”
Hizo una pausa.
“Pero dejaron algo atrás.”
“¿Qué?””
Metió la mano en la carpeta y colocó una pequeña llave plateada en la palma de mi mano.
Una cinta azul descolorida estaba atada a su asa.
Yo conocía esa cinta.
Mi madre lo llevaba puesto en la muñeca el día que murió.
Daniel bajó la voz.
“Amelia, quienquiera que haya entrado a robar en ese edificio no estaba buscando dinero.”
Miró hacia la puerta del vestuario.
“Estaban buscando algo que tu madre había escondido.”
Luego me entregó una última fotografía.
Mostraba la entrada a la antigua casa de diseño.
Junto a la puerta había un hombre al que nunca había visto antes.
