June looks at me with an unspoken question in her eyes.
“She worked here for a few years,” I explain. “The only time she was ever happy, I think. She started off as a cabaret girl, but when the manager discovered that she could play the piano, he put her to performing in the lobby.”
I stiffen instantly. Telling this story was a mistake. It can only end in sadness. “She met my father. He was staying at this hotel with some friends. He saw her, and decided he had to have her. When he checked out, he took her with him.”
I leave out the nastier parts of this chapter of my mother’s life. June doesn’t need to know how the fairy tale is woven through with lies and bloodshed, same as every other story of my family.
It’s better this way. Cleaner. Simpler.
I extend my hand to her. “Come on. Let
