Chapter 1 - WEAR YOUR BEST UNIFORM
Beatrice tipped her champagne glass over Maya’s shoulder.
Cold liquid soaked through the white blouse.
“There,” she said, smiling for the phones pointed at them. “Now you actually look like you’ve been working.”
Laughter broke across the ballroom.
Maya stood perfectly still.
Ten years ago, she would have lowered her eyes. She would have apologized for something she hadn’t done and searched for the nearest bathroom before anyone saw her cry.
Tonight, she reached into the pocket of her black apron and pulled out a clean handkerchief.
She dabbed her shoulder.
Then she looked at Beatrice.
“Did that make you feel better?”
The laughter thinned.
Beatrice’s smile stayed in place, but something behind it hardened.
They were twenty-eight now, standing beneath crystal chandeliers at Beatrice Garden Resort, and somehow Beatrice still expected the scholarship girl to know her place.
Back in high school, Maya had been the daughter of the woman who washed half the neighborhood’s clothes.
Beatrice had been the mayor’s daughter.
One girl had arrived at school in a chauffeured SUV.
The other had walked there carrying a lunch her mother packed before sunrise.
Ten years later, the reunion invitation had come with a handwritten note.
Maya, don’t worry about the entrance fee. We need someone to remind us how lucky we are. Wear your best… uniform.
Maya had shown the note to her mother.
Rosa read it, folded it once, and pushed it back across the kitchen table.
“You don’t have to prove anything to those people.”
“I know.”
“Then why go?”
Maya hadn’t answered immediately.
Three days earlier, a different envelope had arrived at her office.
Inside were copies of payroll records from Beatrice Garden Resort, photographs of locked employee exits, and a note written in blue ink.
Your mother wasn’t the only one they did this to.
Please come before Friday.
So Maya had accepted the invitation.
She had worn a white blouse, a black skirt, plain flats, and her mother’s old apron.
Now Beatrice glanced around at their former classmates.
“Relax, everyone. Maya and I always joke like this.”
“No,” Maya said. “You joke. Other people decide whether it’s worth arguing.”
Someone near the bar stopped recording.
Beatrice leaned closer.
“If you came here to make a scene, you can leave.”
Before Maya could answer, a young server stumbled beside them.
A tray tilted. Water splashed across the floor.
Beatrice spun toward her.
“Are you stupid?”
The girl went pale.
Maya caught the tray before it fell.
As their hands met beneath it, the server pressed a tiny brass key into Maya’s palm.
May you like
Then she whispered four words.
“They know I wrote.”
