The first thing six-year-old Sophie Mercer heard was her mother's voice coming through a locked hotel door. It was almost too faint to distinguish from the violins playing downstairs, but Sophie knew that voice. She had listened to its old recordings every night for fourteen months. “Sophie? Honey, if that's you, please find somebody.” Sophie pressed her ear against the dark wood and whispered, “Mommy?” A metallic rattle answered her. Then, urgently, “Get your father. Not Vivian. Your father.”
At the far end of the corridor, guests were gathering for the wedding. Sophie wore a pink tulle dress and white shoes that pinched her toes. Her father, Andrew Mercer, stood beneath a chandelier in his tuxedo, waiting to marry the beautiful woman who had promised to give Sophie a new mother. Sophie had been told her real mother, Laura, had walked out on them. She had been told that some people simply stopped loving their families. But the woman behind the door sounded exactly like the voice singing “Moon River” on Sophie's tablet.
Sophie pulled the brass handle. Locked. “Daddy!” The bride appeared first. Vivian Cross swept down the hallway in an ivory wedding gown, her expression changing when she saw where Sophie stood. “What are you doing here?” she asked. Sophie pointed at the door. “My mom is inside.” For one instant Vivian looked toward the handle. Not confused. Afraid. Then she caught Sophie's wrist. “You are imagining things again. We discussed this.” Sophie pulled away, stumbled, and landed on the carpet. Vivian stood over her. “Stop this before you embarrass your father.”
Outside, the storm that had begun before dawn pressed rain against the hotel's tall windows. Sophie's grandmother had stayed home because she was ill, and the little girl had nobody nearby who knew how often she talked about Laura. In the ballroom, guests had been told that Sophie sometimes invented stories when she was upset. That explanation now hung over her like another locked door. Even so, she kept calling for help. Andrew saw his daughter crying and hurried over. “What happened?” Vivian immediately said Sophie was upset about the wedding. Sophie shook her head fiercely. “There's a lady in there. She said not to tell Vivian.” Andrew looked at the locked door. He had spent a year convincing himself Laura had chosen a life without them; the thought that Sophie might be hearing her made him physically ill. He asked a passing hotel employee for the service key. Vivian stepped into his path. “Andrew, our guests are waiting.” He looked at his daughter's face, then at the door. “They can wait.” He took the key, turned it, and heard a woman inside whisper his name.