Chapter Two

Valerie

She tapped the code to announce her arrival and waited several moments before someone came in answer. To her disappointment, it was Geoffrey, not Vincent, who arrived to escort her. The orphan boy had become a handsome young man, one whom the girls Below had started to notice, yet he somehow had retained a sweet innocence not often found among teenage boys Above. Diana liked him very much, but barely managed to conceal her dismay that it was he who met her instead of Vincent.

Geoffrey, bless his heart, never noticed. He was dressed in his best, as was customary for Winterfest, and gave her a laughing formal bow. "You look terrific," he said, smiling at her. She was startled to notice he could look her in the eye now. He gallantly offered his arm, which she accepted, and led the way to the Great Hall.

The entire community and all the Helpers Diana knew, plus many she didn’t know, were gathered at the huge door. Vincent was, of course, among them, standing to one side of the entrance. He smiled slightly when she arrived with Geoffrey and she gave him a beaming smile in return, but his attention had already shifted to Father, leaning on his cane.

Diana didn’t hear any of Father’s obviously-rehearsed speech about Winterfest. Her throat was thick with sorrow at Vincent’s greeting – or lack of it. He had shown no more interest in her arrival than he would have with any other Helper. He hadn’t come to meet her himself. He was looking wonderful tonight, wearing a new shirt of such a sparkling white that it made his golden skin glow. It laced up the front and had long poet sleeves that ended in ruffles at his wrists, and his smoothly creased black trousers hugged his muscled legs like second skin.

Diana resolutely refused to look. It would only make her feel worse.

Vincent lifted the heavy bar from the door and then pushed the two halves open, causing a gust of wind to rush over the waiting people.

Geoffrey squeezed her arm. "May I escort you through the darkness?" he asked.

Diana suspected this, too, was a ritual, and forced a smile past the lump in her throat. He was trying so hard. "You may," she said as gaily as she could.

She tried to listen to the speeches around the long table but until Vincent spoke, her attention wandered badly. He did not look at her as he spoke; instead, his eyes rested on the flame of the candle in front of him and once his gaze lifted to the shadows above them.

Then the young men lit the candles on the chandeliers and other youngsters cranked the chandeliers high above them, casting a lovely golden glow over the whole room, and the feast began. Now, surely, Vincent would at least come over to say hello.

But he did not. He first spent quite a long while talking with Peter Alcott and Sebastian, who seemed to have several very amusing stories to tell, judging by the laughter she heard from all three men. Then Vincent moved to a table where a young Asian couple were holding court with a new baby. The mother handed the child to Vincent, who held it expertly – of course, Diana reminded herself, there were any number of children below and he was so good with them, he must also handle the babies. The sight of Vincent smiling tenderly down at the child in his arms, and the sound of its cooing response to him, made her heart twist painfully.

"Diana?" Geoffrey was back. He had been so attentive that Diana was certain she was his assignment for this evening. "Would you like some of William’s punch? He only makes it on special occasions."

She accepted the cup with a smile and tasted it. "It’s marvelous. What is it?"

Geoffrey shrugged, looking for a moment like the boy he had been. "He won’t tell," he said with a grin. "Father once suggested one of the ingredients is rum, and William turned as red as a beet and got so flustered that no one else dared ask any more questions."

"It’s not rum," Diana said. She took another sip. "Cinnamon, and maybe nutmeg. No alcohol."

"Father was just teasing William," Geoffrey said. "William wouldn’t put liquor in his punch, not when so many of the kids will be drinking it. Do you want some cake or a cookie or anything? There’s tons of food left."

"No thank you, Geoffrey. This is plenty."

Geoffrey sat down on a nearby stool and gazed at her for a moment. "Are you all right, Diana? You don’t seem to be having much fun."

"No, I’m fine," she reassured him, manufacturing a bright smile. "It’s a lovely party. I guess I just feel a bit out of place, having been gone so long."

He nodded, but looked unconvinced. "We only see some of the Helpers at Winterfest," he said, letting his gaze wander around the room. "Most of them never come Below otherwise, and if they send us something or take in one of the kids who’s moving Above, they only have contact with a few of us." He pointed toward a middle-aged couple who were laughing with Jamie. "They knew Jamie’s grandmother."

Diana looked, interested in spite of herself. "I didn’t realize Jamie had relatives Above. For some reason, I thought she was an orphan."

"Like me," Geoffrey said, no bitterness in his voice. "She is. But her grandma had a life Above and Jack and Tina were neighbors of hers long ago. And over there," he motioned to the Asian couple, "that’s Henry and Lin. They were married Below, before Catherine … died. She was at the wedding."

Diana glanced at him and saw sadness on his young face. "You still miss her."

He nodded. "We all do," he said. "She was special."

Vincent chose that moment to come to Diana at last, and Geoffrey flushed and slid off his stool. He shot Diana a look that she took to mean he didn’t want Vincent hearing him talk of Catherine, so she gave him a slight nod, and at his look of relief, guessed she was right.

"I wonder if there’s any chocolate cake left," Geoffrey said with too much enthusiasm. "Want any, Vincent?"

"No, thank you, Geoffrey," Vincent said with a pat of the boy’s shoulder, and Geoffrey grinned and loped away. "Are you enjoying yourself, Diana?"

"It’s a lovely party," she said, a bit lamely.

"And you’re looking particularly lovely tonight," he said.

She flushed with pleasure, though the remark sounded a bit formal, even for Vincent, whose speech was usually quite formal anyway. "Thank you."

"How was your trip?"

The question caught her off guard. Already she’d almost forgotten it. Being Below always gave her a sense of unreality, as if she had entered a dream, and the world Above and her life there faded away while she was among these people.

"I missed New York," she finally said. "L.A. is a whole different world."

He nodded. "So I’ve been told. Did you see any movie stars?" The twinkle in his eyes made her laugh in spite of her feeling of awkwardness. He was speaking to her as if they hardly knew one another.

"Just Robert Redford," she said. "I saw him getting out of a car in front of a hotel."

"Is he a big star?"

This time her laugh was heartier. "I always forget you don’t know this stuff here. Big enough, I guess. They never look as impressive in person as they do in the movies. How have you been?"

"Busy," he said. His eyes shifted to another part of the room. "Will you excuse me for a moment? I haven’t seen Sam since he got out of the hospital."

"Sure," she said, but he was already moving away and she watched as he approached an elderly man whose whole face lit up at the sight of him. She sighed.

What was she to do?