The embassy looks smaller than I remembered. I know buildings are supposed to shrink as you age, but I hadn’t been expecting this. When we reach the stairs, my hand feels too big on the railing. I wonder what Ms. Chancellor would do if I were to hop onto the banister and slide down to the black-and-white-checkered floor like I used to do when Jamie told me not to.
“There are fifty-five Americans employed by the embassy,” Ms. Chancellor says, slipping back into tour-guide mode as if I’m just another visiting dignitary. I can’t really blame her — I’m a big job, after all, a responsibility she isn’t exactly trained for.
“A few live on the embassy grounds. But most reside in the city. We are the face of the United States here in Adria. We do important work for an important cause. And now, Grace, you’re one of us!”
“I know,” I tell her, but she just talks on like it’s all news to me. Like I didn’t spend every summer of my life here up until three years ago.
“Some of the people who work here have children about your age,” Ms. Chancellor is saying. “I suspect you are going to make some great friends here, Grace.”
“Yay.”
If Ms. Chancellor hears my sarcasm, she ignores it.
“We also have about forty Adrian citizens who work with us. Not for us. Never for us.” She adds the last part a little under her breath.
When we reach the end of the hall, I see a big round window with a cozy seat nestled into the alcove beneath it. Heavy velvet draperies hang on either side, ready to block the world away. Light ripples through the wavy glass, and I feel myself stop and stare.
In the distance, I can hear a woman counting.
“Twenty-seven. Twenty-eight. Twenty-nine.”
A child laughs.
There are footsteps on the stairs.
“Ready or not, here I come!” the woman yells, and the laughter grows louder.
“Gracie!” The woman’s voice echoes through the hall. “Gracie, where are you?”
“Grace?” The voice is louder — closer. It cuts through the fog that fills my mind. “Grace,” Ms. Chancellor says, and I shudder as I remember where I am. When I am.
“Grace,” she tries again. “Did you hear me?”
“Yeah,” I say, shaking my head. “They work with us. Never for us. I’ve got it.”
She eyes me, not sure if she should be worried or annoyed. “What I was saying after that is that security is our top priority here. Adria is a very friendly post, but we live in a dangerous world. That’s why security protocols are not optional. We do not prop open doors. We do not give out access codes. And we never, ever jump off of walls.”
She removes her glasses and stares at me with eyes the same chestnut color as her hair, and I know she’s not messing around.
“While you are in this building, you are on American soil. This is your country. This is your home. But step outside these walls and you are a visitor in Adria — a visitor with a very important job. Grace, I need to know that you understand me.”
“Sure,” I say, because I have heard this all before. I have done this all before. I have ignored this all before.
“We must respect our host country and we must respect our neighbors.” She lowers her voice again and grows more serious. More intent. This is a woman who means business as she warns me, “Sometimes the walls that stand between us and our neighbors are all that stand between our country and war.”
“I understand. Don’t worry. I am not going to cause any trouble.”
And at that moment I mean it. I really, really do. Ms. Chancellor must see it in my eyes, because she reaches out. But as soon as her fingers touch my shoulder, I feel a shock and jerk away. I’m almost certain I smell smoke.
“Grace?” Ms. Chancellor’s voice is too soft — too distant. “Grace, do you know why your grandfather asked you to come live with him?”
“Because my dad’s unit is being deployed to the Middle East and war zones aren’t as kid-friendly as they used to be?”
“No. You’re here because your grandfather has worked in Adria for nearly half a century. He married a woman from here. He raised his family here. This was your mother’s home, Grace. It is your home. And your grandfather wants you to know it and love it as he does. He has always wanted you here.”
“Okay.” I do not ask how — if Grandpa loves me so much — it’s possible that I haven’t laid eyes on him since before my mother died.
Ms. Chancellor smiles at me. She thinks we’ve just bonded. I don’t have the heart to tell her she’s wrong.
I’m here because there’s no place else for me to go.