Chapter 4

The Charleston Historical Society gala was exactly as I remembered, a sea of seersucker suits and pastel dresses, the air thick with polite murmurs and the scent of gardenias.

Mother was in her element, air-kissing acquaintances and dropping names with practiced ease.

Jessica, clinging to Mother' s arm, scanned the room with the predatory gaze of a hunter spotting her prey.

"There he is," Mother hissed, nudging Jessica forward. "Ethan Prescott. By the fountain."

Ethan stood talking to an older couple, looking distinguished in his tuxedo.

Just as before, Jessica, feeling a bit off from her "stomach bug" and perhaps overconfident from her morning's "successes" with Jake, initially balked.

"Mother, I don' t feel like it right now," she whined quietly. "He looks so... serious."

This was new. In the first timeline, she' d been eager.

Perhaps her physical discomfort was more pronounced this time around already. Good.

Mother' s face tightened. "Don' t be ridiculous, Jessica. This is your chance. Don' t you dare mess this up."

But Jessica dug in her heels, a petulant frown on her face. "I need some air."

She drifted off towards the terrace, leaving Mother fuming.

Mother turned to me, her eyes narrowed. "Well, don' t just stand there, Sarah. Go talk to him. Keep him occupied until your sister pulls herself together. We can' t lose this connection."

The blatantness of it still stung, but this time, it fueled my resolve.

I was the placeholder. The temporary fix.

"Alright, Mother," I said, my voice devoid of emotion.

I approached Ethan.

"Mr. Prescott?"

He turned, a polite smile on his face. "Yes?"

Then recognition dawned. "Sarah, isn't it? We met briefly last year, I think. At the Children's Hospital fundraiser?"

His memory was good.

"Yes, that's right. Sarah Miller."

"It's good to see you again." He seemed genuinely pleasant. "Your mother and sister were just here."

"Jessica wasn't feeling her best," I said smoothly. "Mother asked me to convey her apologies."

We fell into conversation, much like that first, forgotten time.

He asked about my work, and I told him about a challenging historical venue I was currently managing for an upcoming wedding.

His eyes lit up. "That sounds fascinating. My family has a deep appreciation for local history."

We talked about Charleston architecture, about the challenges of preservation.

He was thoughtful, engaging, and for a few dangerous moments, I felt that same flicker of connection I' d experienced before.

A genuine ease, a meeting of minds.

He laughed at a wry comment I made, a real, unguarded laugh.

It was a stark contrast to the stiff, polite smiles he usually offered.

I saw Mother watching us from across the room, a confused, then calculating, expression on her face.

Jessica had reappeared, looking annoyed, but she was making her way towards us.

The brief interlude was almost over.

"I've really enjoyed talking with you, Sarah," Ethan said, his gaze sincere. "You have a very interesting perspective."

Hope, a tiny, treacherous seed, tried to sprout in my chest.

Could things be different this time, even in this small way?

Then Jessica arrived, a dazzling smile plastered on her face.

"Ethan! So sorry to keep you waiting. I had a little... dizzy spell."

She looped her arm through his, pressing herself against him.

"Mother has told me so much about you."

Ethan, ever the gentleman, smiled politely. "Jessica. It' s a pleasure."

His eyes, however, flickered towards me for a moment, an unreadable expression in them.

Then he turned his full attention to my sister.

The performance had begun. And I, once again, was relegated to the shadows.

But this time, the shadows felt like home.

They were where I could watch, and wait, and plan.