At Thanksgiving, I hosted a dinner in my penthouse for those who had nowhere else to go. The rooms were filled with laughter and the smell of good food.
Someone asked if there was a dress code for next year, and a guest shouted back that we could wear whatever color we wanted. I laughed because that was the truth Beatrice never understood.
I still carry the child I was, but she now lives in a life that can house her. I claimed my belonging in silk and steel and in every door I opened for myself.
I am Camille Kensington, and I have never again asked anyone whether I was allowed.
