Chapter 5 The Gala
The Gala
Eliza
Late June
The Cape Avalon Marine Conservation Gala happens every year in late June, when the weather is perfect and the donors are feeling generous and everyone who matters in coastal conservation wants to be seen caring about the ocean.
This year they're honoring Dr. Claire Huang, my former graduate advisor, for her thirty years of groundbreaking research on kelp forest ecosystems.
I should be at Claire's table. Three years ago, I would have been. But now I'm at the Morrow Foundation table, wearing a gown Julian's assistant picked out, waiting for my husband to show up.
He's forty-five minutes late.
I've perfected the art of looking unbothered, champagne in hand, smile firmly in place, making small talk with foundation board members who remember my name because it's useful and forget my research because it isn't. Dr. Pemberton is explaining his theory about donor engagement metrics, and I'm nodding at appropriate intervals while watching the entrance.
Pemberton gestures with his champagne flute. "Your husband's work with the Hong Kong coral restoration has been remarkable. The foundation is really making a difference."
"Julian is very dedicated."
"And you must be so proud, being a marine biologist yourself. To see your field getting this kind of philanthropic attention."
I take a sip of champagne to avoid answering. Proud isn't the word I'd choose. Sidelined, maybe. Invisible. But those aren't appropriate gala responses.
The entrance doors open, and there's Julian, finally, looking immaculate in his tuxedo and utterly unapologetic about his lateness. And there, beside him, in a silver dress that catches every light in the room, is Margot.
Of course.
They enter together, and heads turn before either of them reaches our table. I've been sitting here making excuses for him. Now everyone can see who delayed him.
I excuse myself from Pemberton and intercept them halfway across the ballroom.
"You made it." I keep my voice light, social, appropriate for public consumption. "Car trouble?"
Julian has the grace to look uncomfortable. "Margot's car broke down on the bridge. I was closest."
"How convenient."
Margot smiles, all innocence. "I called three people before Julian. Everyone else was already here. He was my last resort, I promise."
"Your last resort." I nod slowly. "And yet somehow you're the one who arrived with my husband."
"Eliza." Julian's voice carries a warning.
A warning. Like I'm the one making a scene. Like I'm the problem here.
"What? I'm making conversation. Isn't that what we do at these things?" I turn back to Margot. "That's a beautiful dress. Silver's a bold choice. Very bridal."
Something flickers in Margot's eyes. Good.
I set my glass on a passing tray. "I should find Claire. She's the actual guest of honor tonight. In case anyone forgot."
I walk away before Julian can respond. My heart is pounding and my hand is shaking slightly, but I keep my spine straight and my head high. There will be time for falling apart later. Right now, I need to find someone who actually values my presence.
Claire is holding court near the silent auction tables, surrounded by former students and current admirers. When she sees me approaching, her face lights up in a way that makes my chest ache.
"Eliza!" She pulls me into a hug, solid and warm. "I was hoping you'd escape the foundation table. Those people are insufferable."
"They're Julian's donors. I have to be nice."
"You have to do no such thing." Claire links her arm through mine and steers me toward a quieter corner. "How are you? Really?"
"I'm fine."
"That's the word people use when they're not fine but don't want to talk about it."
I laugh, a real laugh, the first one all evening. "You know me too well."
"I supervised your thesis. I know when you're deflecting." She studies my face with the same intensity she brings to analyzing data. "The last time we talked, you mentioned things were tense at home."
"They're still tense."
"And your research? Are you working on anything?"
The question lands somewhere soft. "Not really. I've been busy with foundation things."
"Foundation things." Claire's tone makes clear what she thinks of that. "You know, there's a research position opening up at the institute. Field work, data analysis, the kind of deep dive you used to love. It's not fully funded yet, but we're close."
"Claire..."
"Just think about it. We're doing interviews in July. I could see you next Thursday morning if you send me an application. I'd love to have you apply."
A research position. Real work, real science, the life I set aside because Julian needed me and I told myself it was temporary. The thought of it makes something flutter in my chest, hope or fear or both.
I tighten my fingers around my clutch. "I'll think about it."
"That's all I ask." Claire squeezes my arm. "You're too talented to be arranging seating charts for donors, Eliza. Don't forget that."
The evening continues. Julian finds me during Claire's acceptance speech and stands close enough that our shoulders touch, a performance of unity for anyone watching.
I don't pull away, but I don't lean in either.
When the room applauds, we both join in.
From across the table, we must look perfectly happy.
After, while Julian is trapped in conversation with a board member, I slip outside for air. The terrace overlooks the harbor, boats bobbing in the darkness, the same view from every expensive venue in Cape Avalon. I lean against the railing and breathe.
"Escaping the circus?"
I turn. Margot is standing in the doorway, silver dress glowing in the light from inside.
"Getting some air."
"Mind if I join you?"
"Would it matter if I did?"
She laughs, like we're friends sharing a joke. "You don't like me very much, do you?"
"I don't know you very much. You've never seemed interested in changing that."
Margot moves to stand beside me at the railing, close enough that I catch her perfume. Something expensive. Something memorable.
Margot rests her elbows on the railing. "Julian and I have twenty years of history. We grew up together. Our fathers were close. Our families are intertwined in ways that don't just disappear because he married someone else."
"I'm aware of the history."
"Are you?" She turns to look at me. "Because you keep asking him to turn me away, and he keeps answering my calls."
"Is that supposed to intimidate me?"
"It's supposed to be honest." She shrugs, elegant and dismissive. "You have a marriage license. I have twenty years. Time will tell which one matters more."
She actually said that. To my face. On a terrace at a party where half the room knows my name.
The anger is so clean it almost feels like relief. No more wondering if I'm imagining things. No more feeling crazy for minding.
I smile.
"Let me be honest with you, Margot. You have twenty years of being Julian's friend.
His family friend. The girl next door he grew up with.
And that's lovely, really, very heartwarming.
But twenty years of friendship should have taught you how to respect his marriage.
" I smile, showing all my teeth. "You might want to remember that while you're crying on his shoulder about your failed marriage. "
Margot's composure cracks, just for a second. Then she smooths it back into place.
She steps away from the railing. "We'll see." Then she walks back inside.
I stay on the terrace until my hands stop shaking. Then I go find Julian.
He's by the bar, nursing a whiskey, looking relieved when he sees me approaching.
"There you are. I was starting to worry."
"Claire asked me to apply for a job." The words come out before I've fully decided to say them. "Research position at the institute. Interviews are in July."
Julian blinks. "That's... that's great. Are you going to apply?"
"I think so. Yes."
"Good." He nods, processing. "Good. That's good, Eliza. You should... I know you've been restless. This could be exactly what you need."
He looks pleased for me. I want to keep talking, tell him about the fieldwork, watch him get excited with me. Please don't check your phone yet.
I shift my clutch under my arm. "She can interview me next Thursday. I'll need to prepare a presentation."
"Okay. Let me know if you need anything."
I will. And he'll forget, like he always forgets, and I'll prepare alone, like I always do. But there's a small, stubborn part of me that hopes maybe this time will be different.
At home that night, I sit at my desk and pull up the institute's website. The position description makes me sit forward: kelp forest ecology, population dynamics, field research along the Massachusetts coast. Everything I used to do. Everything I'm good at.
I open a new email to Claire.
I'd like to apply for the research position and take the Thursday interview slot. I'll send my CV first thing tomorrow. Please send me the presentation requirements.
My finger hovers over the send button.
Outside, Julian is moving around the apartment, getting ready for bed, living his life in the same space as mine but somehow miles away. Margot's smug face still annoys me, but I wanted this work before I met either of them. I want it now.
I press send.
Then I open my calendar and block off the evenings before Thursday for interview prep, put a star beside it so I'll see it, add a note: Don't expect him to remember. Prepare alone.
But I also type a text to Julian: Interview Thursday morning. Presentation prep all week.
Sent.