The original ballroom was now a meeting area, complete with portable walls that could be moved to accommodate different-sized groups. Tonight, the north-west quadrant was home to a twinless twins support group, which Brianna oversaw. Like Brianna, each person who attended the weekly meetings had lost his or her twin. The group provided a community of support to acknowledge feelings of loss over the death or removal of a twin. Discussions ranged beyond grief and separation anxiety to everyday stresses. They talked about jobs and bosses. Another family member, spouse, or significant other. Any topic was fair game, and the information shared here did not leave these walls. The idea was that victims with the shared experience of losing a twin could relate, but sometimes that wasn’t the case due to the many diverse personalities involved.

As the organizer and leader, Brianna usually arrived at the room forty minutes before the scheduled meeting. Tonight, running late, she hurried in to find Tanisha busy making coffee and arranging cups and napkins on trays set on the stage, now used by the group as a serving table. An extension cord snaked from the coffeepot to the nearest outlet, and an Air-Pot held hot water. On the other tray sat a container of powdered creamer and two sugar bowls, one with individual packets of different sweeteners, the other with varieties of tea.

“Where have you been?” Tanisha chided as Mr. Coffee gurgled and sputtered. Dressed as always to the nines, her hair scraped back by a glittering headband that held her tight-knit curls away from her face, Tanisha sent Brianna a smile meant to convey that she was kidding. “It’s not like you to be late.” Plucking a packet of sugar from the bowl, she shook the little package while waiting for the coffee to finish brewing.

“Delayed. Sorry.” Brianna dumped her purse on the far end of the stage.

“I know what you mean.”

Brianna seriously doubted it.

“I tell ya, I couldn’t get back to sleep last night,” Tanisha went on, her mocha-colored skin looking smooth as silk under the once-upon-a-time ballroom’s chandeliers. Suspended from twenty-foot coved ceilings, the lights gave off a warm glow reminiscent of another era. The old-world charm was definitely at odds with the mismatched twentieth-century furniture and portable “walls” used to separate the huge space.

“That dream I had?” Tanisha continued. “Whooee. So damned real. Lord!” Her eyebrows drew together as if she were still attempting to figure out the nightmare. “Don’t know what it means. But something was off last night. Something big, a separation thing.” As if she realized she was talking to herself, she glanced at Brianna. “What about you? You said you had a bad dream, too. Everything okay?”

“No.”

“Uh-oh.”

“I guess you haven’t talked to Selma?”