|
Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Aug 24, 2008 13:27:18 GMT -5
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to come out and mingle for a little while?” Jerome asked. “I’d be happy to watch the dinner for a few minutes.” He knew that the question was silly, but he didn’t want Esmé to think that anyone expected her to stay by herself in the kitchen all evening. “I’m positive,” she said, and waved a slender hand towards the exit of the kitchen. “The lasagna will be ready in half an hour.” “Very well, dear,” said Jerome, and leaned over to kiss his wife on the mouth before hurrying out of the kitchen. *** The seventh living room of the penthouse apartment included many items, such as a big-screen television and a china cabinet containing Esmé’s cherished tea-set. The tea-set was kept at the very top shelf of the cabinet, and was off limits to everyone in the penthouse. Emma knew that the tea-set had belonged to Esmé’s mother, and so there was no question as to why it was so important. Emma had never gotten a chance to meet either of her grandparents, who had both died before she was born. The only relatives she had any sort of relationship with were Jerome’s mother and brother, who were very kind people and who Emma enjoyed the company of immensely. “The board games are kept inside the cabinet of the television stand,” she explained as she and Faust entered the living room. “I’ll just get them and then I’ll show you where the others are.” Emma was so focused on getting the board games, that she had failed to notice just how jittery Faust had become since consuming a single piece of chocolate. Emma had simply assumed that the other girl was naturally excitable when she had raced in and out of nearly every room they had passed. Emma had just turned her back and was kneeling down before the television stand when Faust looked up in amazement at the china cabinet. It reminded her of the tall mountains that the people on the Discovery Channel were always climbing, and Faust ran her tongue over her teeth as an idea occurred to her. Reaching up with both hands, she grabbed hold of the knobs on either side and hoisted herself up onto the cabinet. Meanwhile, Emma was trying to decide which game would be more appropriate for a ten-year-old (Candyland— which Emma hadn’t played since she was eight — or Monopoly, which she had been beating her brother-in-law at since she was Faust’s age). Emma was just about to ask Faust which game she preferred, when the teenager looked over her shoulder and gasped. “What do you think you’re doing?!”Faust, whose right foot was curled around the middle knob of the cabinet’s third door, grinned down at the other girl. “What’s it look like?” Faust asked. “I’m climbing.” Her heart racing, Emma dropped the board games and raced over to the cabinet. “A china cabinet is not for climbing!” “I’ll be careful.” “That is not the point!” Emma snapped. “Now get down from there this instant!”
|
|
|
Post by Jenny on Aug 24, 2008 14:08:23 GMT -5
Rather than explain to the ten-year-old the importance of what she was now climbing on, Emma decided to try to force her to come down without the need for any screaming (which would surely attract the attention of her mother, stepfather and the Widdershins, and which she would eventually be blamed for).
'Faust,' she said, shiny eyes darting under her fringe. 'I think dinner's ready. Come down and we'll go and get some lasagna.'
'Your father said he'd come and get us for dinner,' Faust remembered, and Emma inwardly cursed the little girl for recalling. She ignored the fact that Jerome was referred to as her father, as there were far more important things at stake.
'Just come down,' Emma said, low and angry. 'There's something very breakable up there thet's really important to my mother, and I'll be in so much trouble if it gets broken. So just come down, and we'll play monopoly.'
'I'll be careful.'
Resisting the urge to climb up there herself and strangle the young Widdershins girl, Emma ground her teeth and forced a little smile. 'We'll find something else for you to climb, Faust,' she said reassuringly. 'You can climb my bookshelf, or the one in Jerome's study, or anything, just not that, OK?'
'Well, I'm already up here, so I may as well carry on.'
It was true. Faust had just passed the highest door of the cabinet and was almost sitting on top of the cabinet itself. She swung her right leg around to the side in order to climb the final stage without ending up trapped against the wall. Just as she accomplished this, she attempted to do the same with her left leg, but couldn't avoid hitting the knob of the highest door on her way round, causing it to swing open.
'Faust!' Emma cried, finally losing what was left of her temper. 'If you don't get down from there right now, I'll get you down myself, and I swear you'll wish you never even saw that china cabinet!'
Faust stopped, a little hurt that Emma didn't understand how much she liked climbing, or that she wasn't trying to upset anyone. 'Ok,' she said quietly. 'I'll get down.'
'About time!' Emma said venemously, and Faust felt herself blush. She felt like going home right now, and never coming back. 'Now be careful.'
|
|
|
Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Aug 24, 2008 15:11:08 GMT -5
Faust nodded, and began to slowly lower her foot down to the second knob from the top. However, she had forgotten that she had accidentally swung open the door on her way up, and so the knob wasn’t where it should have been. Instead, she felt her foot brush up against something else, all too aware as it slipped from its place on the top shelf. Emma cried out as she watched the sugar bowl from her mother’s tea set fall, and she dove forward in an attempt to catch the sugar bowl before it hit the hardwood floor. Unfortunately, Emma wasn’t quick enough, and she was forced to watch in horror as the sugar bowl shattered into three equal pieces across the floor. *** Because the seventh living room was located only a short distance away from the kitchen and dining room, it was only inevitable that everyone in the penthouse heard the sound of the sugar bowl breaking. They just had no idea what it could be. Yet.Carmelita glanced up from her wine. “Did you hear that?” she asked. “It sounded like something breaking,” Nero remarked. Esmé swept out of the kitchen, nearly colliding with her husband as he caught her just outside the entrance. Jerome had just been on his way back into the kitchen to ask his wife if she needed any help when they and everyone else had heard the sound. “Jerome,” Esmé said, “did you hear that?” “I don’t see how anyone could’ve missed it,” he replied. “Dinner is just about ready. Why don’t you go and fetch the girls, and perhaps find out what that noise was?” Setting down her glass of wine, Carmelita rose from the table. “Would you like any help, Esmé?” she asked, eager to get away from the Widdershins, who had been giving her strange looks from the moment they had all sat down together at the table. “Yes, dear,” Esmé said. “That would be nice.” As soon as he had seen his wife and adopted daughter disappear into the kitchen, Jerome hurried in the direction from which the sound had originated.
|
|
|
Post by Jenny on Aug 24, 2008 15:37:53 GMT -5
'Oh my God!' Emma cried, and Faust practically dropped the rest of the way back down to the floor, lucky not to land on any of the broken china.
'Was it valuable?' Faust enquired in a small voice, her eyes wide and a little frightened. Emma rounded on her, suddenly a lot taller now that she was angry.
'It was important!' Emma screeched, and she looked as if she might say more, but the voice of her stepfather in the doorway stopped her.
'What's going on?' Jerome asked softly, so as his wife mightn't hear from the kitchen. The two girls were standing near the china cabinet, which certainly didn't boad well.
'She,' Emma pointed an accusing finger at Faust, who looked on the verge of tears. 'started climbing on the cabinet! And then she broke part of that tea set mother loves!'
Jerome grimaced. The tea set was something his wife treasured for many reasons, some of which he didn't understand. But he did know that it was something that had belonged to her mother, and was very important to her due especially to the fact that her mother had died when she was a teenager. He looked at his stepdaughter, who was on the verge of shaking with anger, and then at Faust, who kept her head lowered.
'I'm sorry, Mr Squalor,' the ten-year-old said quietly. 'Emma told me to get down, but I just like climbing, sir.'
Jerome had a short flashback to his childhood at her words, when he and his younger brother had been forced to call their father 'sir' whenever they saw him, which wasn't overwhelmingly often. He had never liked being called sir since, and it softened him even more to hear her be so formal towards him.
'It's alright,' he said quietly. 'I'm sure it can be mended. It was an accident after all.'
'That doesn't change the fact that she was being stupid!' Emma practically shouted. 'I begged her to get down off that cabinet, and she blatantly ignored me!'
'Emma,' Jerome said, holding up a hand. 'She's a lot younger than you are. She didn't mean to, and that's the important thing.'
A short silence followed his calm words.
'We'll see if mother sees it that way.'
|
|
|
Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Aug 24, 2008 16:17:31 GMT -5
When Jerome returned to the dining room with the two girls, he found everyone but his wife seated at the table, seemingly enjoying their lasagna. Carmelita was the first to speak. “Is everything alright?” she asked. Emma said nothing as she sat down beside her sister, while Faust seated herself beside her mother. Colette was usually second when it came to disciplining her daughter, and so if anyone said anything about what had happened, Faust didn’t want to be anywhere near her father or his hooks. Of course, Fernald had never used them as weapons against his family and (as far as Faust knew) no one else for that matter. It was the way he waved them about when he was angry that intimidated her. “Where’s Esmé?” Jerome asked. “In the kitchen,” replied Carmelita. “What—” “I’ll be right back.” Before anyone could question him further, Jerome hurried into the kitchen. “What’s with him?” asked Nero, motioning with his fork toward the kitchen. Glaring across the table at Faust, Emma said, “I suggest you ask Little Miss Daredevil over there.” Sadly, Faust lowered her head and stared down at her plate. *** Esmé was sitting at the kitchen table, slowly sipping a cup of unsweetened tea when Jerome burst in. Setting her cup down on top of a coaster on the table, Esmé smiled at him. “How is everything?” she asked. Jerome seemed to hang back in the doorway. “Darling, what is it?” Esmé started to rise from the table, but Jerome swept across the room instead and sat down across from her. Taking her hands in his, he said, “Sweetheart, I’m afraid I have some bad news.” “What sort of bad news?” Esmé asked. Jerome bit down on his bottom lip and looked down at the table. “I’m afraid it concerns your mother’s tea set.” Esmé’s blue eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. “That tea set is my most cherished possession, Jerome.”
|
|
|
Post by Jenny on Aug 25, 2008 12:31:32 GMT -5
{Sorry about the formatting, it all went strange in Notepad or whatever and I haven't got tiime to change it....]
Jerome cringed inwardly. He had known that it wasn't going to be easy to tell his wife about what had happened to the tea set she so treasured, but it seemed like he may have even underestimated the effect it would have on her. He knew the story--her parents had sent her off very young to live with Olaf because they were unable to tak care of her, and her mother had died very unexpectedly afterwards. She treasured the tea set so much because it was the only thing she had to remember either of her parents. What was he going to do? 'I'm so sory, sweetheart,' he said. 'But I'm afraid the sugarbowl is broken.' He let that register, a little twitch at the corner of her eyes, a displeased frown, and then continued. 'But very repairably so!' he told her comfortingly. 'I know how much it means to you, darling, and I promise it'll be as good as new once it's mended.' 'But how did it just break?' she asked, and he could see that she was a little upset, even though it would be repaired. 'I was on the top shelpf of the cabinet to prevent just this from happening!' The question he had dared hope she wouldn't ask. He almost told her that he had broken it, but now that everyone else was aware of what had happened, there was no use trying to keep it from her. 'I'm afriad Faust accidentally knocked it out of the cabinet when she was climbing in the living room,' he blurted, unsure of how else to put it. He could practially feel her getting angrier and angrier, and was unsure of how to prevent it. 'Wait a second,' she said. 'It broke because Faust was climbing...?' '...She likes to climb,' Jerome said feebly. 'Come on, my darling, she's only a little girl, she didn't mean any harm.' Esmé pulled her hands out of his grasp. 'That sugarbowl was of more importance to me than--' she stopped, and seemed to reconsider a little. 'It was just important Jerome, and not just because it was the final piece of that tea set. And she shouldn't have been climbing, and she should have been more carefu!' 'How do you mean, more important?' he asked, placing a calming hand on her arm, which she quickly shook off. 'I suggest asking Fernald for your answer.' She snapped. 'Ironically enough.'
~
'You broke what?' Fernald Widdershins practially growled across the table at his daughter. He loved little Faust with all his heart of course, but he did have a temper, and she did need to be disciplined sometimes.
'A piece of a tea set,' Faust answered, feeling as though everyone in the room was against her. Even her mother, who never liked to see her daughter punished for any sort of behaviour, made no move to intervene. 'A sugarbowl, I think.'
'You broke a sugarbowl,' he repeated. 'The sugarbowl. Couldn't you have put your damn clumsy foot somewhere else, Faust?'
|
|
|
Post by Vacuum Pot on Aug 25, 2008 12:47:58 GMT -5
Shouldn't it be the Restless Reconciliation? Reconcile isn't really a noun. Sorry to be such an ass.
|
|
|
Post by Jenny on Aug 25, 2008 13:06:03 GMT -5
Well, now that I actually think about the fact that 'restless' is an adjective, and 'reconcile' is a verb, it should probably be conjugated and you're probably correct And it's OK, you aren't an ass (even though it was a bit anal to pick up on it).
|
|
|
Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Aug 25, 2008 13:33:55 GMT -5
It’s okay. I could read it just fine. Yeah, I agree with Tri Eyes Fan as well. Jenny, you just let me know if you'd like me to change the title and I will be happy to. *** “It was an accident, Daddy!” Faust wailed. “She’s right, Mr. Widdershins,” said Emma, who until this moment had chosen to keep silent. She agreed that Faust deserved to be scolded, but did Mr. Widdershins really have to use such a gratuitous word? “Don’t be so hard on her. It was partly my fault as well. I… I gave her a piece of chocolate.” Fernald’s expression softened somewhat. “I appreciate your honesty, Emma,” he said, and then turned to his daughter. “Is that true, Faust?” She nodded. “Yes, sir.” “Sweetheart,” Colette said gently, and Faust looked up at her mother, “you know you aren’t supposed to have sugar.” “She didn’t tell me that,” Emma pointed out. “Our daughter suffers from attention-deficit/hyper-activity disorder,” Fernald explained, placing a hook gently on Faust’s small shoulder. “And so it’s very easy for her to get worked up.” “I’m sorry,” Emma said. “If I had only known that, then I would never have given her the candy.” “Faust,” Fernald said, “let’s go into the kitchen. I want you to apologize to Mrs. Squalor.” Faust looked to her mother for assistance. “Do I have to?” she asked Colette. “You did a very bad thing,” Fernald said quickly, so as not to put his wife on the spot. “I think apologizing would be the noble thing to do… wouldn’t you?” “Mrs. Squalor doesn’t seem to like me very much.” “She doesn’t like me, either,” Nero said. “And I’ve been acquainted with her for a lot longer than you have.” “Oh, Fernald,” Colette said. “Can’t you just apologize for Faust? Why must we subject her to that… that woman in there?” Carmelita bit her lip at that, and turned to her younger sister. She could see the beginnings of an upheaval brewing, just by the way Emma’s single eyebrow knotted together and her shiny eyes narrowed in Colette’s direction. Not wanting Emma to make things worse somehow, Carmelita placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “No, Colette,” Fernald said. “Faust will never learn if she doesn’t take responsibility for her actions.” “But she’s only a little girl,” Colette said. “It doesn’t matter. She still needs to apologize, and no one except her is going to do it.”
|
|
|
Post by Jenny on Aug 26, 2008 15:14:39 GMT -5
(I felt like a bit of drama Sorry, it's OTT to the absolute max. And I know that White Faced Women aren't canon!twins, but I love that, so I used it.....we shouldn't have to mention them again anyway, I don't think.) Fernald firmly believed that for a person to fully learn from their mistakes, apologies were almost always necessary, and it was important that they feully understood the consequences of their actions. He would know, after all. Why couldn't Colette see it that way? His wife had always been far too soft on their daughter, and although he was aware that she was only this way because she adored Faust so much, it was admittedly infuriating at times, especially because he was the only parent who ever disciplined her. 'Oh, you're being so unreasonable!' Colette cried, and Faust felt just that much worse knowing that she had caused an argument between her parents on top of breaking something irreplaceable. 'Faust didn't mean to break that sugarbowl, and she shouldn' have to apologize for breaking something that caused so much trouble anyway!' Nero felt like curling up into a ball, but settled instead for placing his head into his hands and sighing. This poor and obviously distressed blonde woman in front of him had no idea what she was getting herself into. His wife had done uncharacteristically well so far in preventing her own temper from getting ahead of her, but Emma--a carbon copy of her mother in almost every sense, inclusive of their not entirely agreeable temperament--didn't seem to be doing so admirably. From the little gir's red cheeks when she had entered the room, it seemed as though she had already been a victim of Emma's explosive temper. He resisted the urge to tell Colette Widdershins how close she was skating to incurring the wrath of both of Esmé's daughters in defence of her mother, but decided it was better to make an enemy of frail Mrs Widdershins than Carmelita and his young sister-in-law. 'It was part of a valuable and treasured set,' Emma practially spat. 'And you should perhaps feel a little thankful that my mother is merely asking for an apology and not for money to cover the cost of a professional repair.' If Emma had reached across the table and physically slapped Colette, the older woman still could not possibly have looked any more mortified. 'Your mother should feel a little thankful nobody ever turned her in,' the blonde eventually returned, her husband and daughter frozen in horror across the room. 'I don't think one broken bit of china quite covers that.' ' Please,' Jerome Squalor's soft, kind voice sounded from the doorway to the dining room. 'Please can we stop this?' Fernald remembered that Jerome had always had an intense dislike (fear, or so the story had been related to him over breakfast by one of the white-faced twins) of confrontation, and was glad to see that everyone in the room stopped their arguments at once.
|
|
|
Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Aug 26, 2008 16:35:08 GMT -5
[Hooray for drama! And I love the fact that you made the two white-faced women twins. I did the same thing with the Snicket siblings (except they’re triplets, lol). You have such great ideas, Jen.] From her chair, Emma glanced over her shoulder at her stepfather. “Does Mother know,” she asked, “about the sugarbowl?” Jerome nodded, a deep frown plastered to his pudgy face. “Yes,” he said. “And I’m afraid that she’s quite beside herself over it.” “Was there ever any doubt?” Carmelita asked. “That was no ordinary sugarbowl.” She turned to the Widdershins, her azure eyes burning. “It belonged to her mother, and that, Mrs. Widdershins, is what makes it so damn special.” “Carmelita, please!” Jerome begged, and everyone at the table could see that he was liable to break down in tears the next time someone raised their voice. “Let’s not argue anymore over it. What’s done is done.” Fernald took this as the opportunity to speak up. “If Esmé isn’t too upset,” he said, “Faust here would like to offer her an apology.” “Thank you, but that really won’t be necessary. I explained the situation to my wife, and she knows it was an accident.” “Be that as it may, Faust still needs to understand the effect that her actions have on others.” Jerome smiled at both Fernald and his daughter. “Very well,” Jerome said. “Follow me.” As the three of them disappeared into the kitchen, both Emma and Carmelita exchanged a worried look. *** Esmé was sitting at the table, sobbing silently into handfuls of napkins, which she kept snatching up from the dispenser in front of her. Jerome had promised that he was only going to check and see how everyone was getting on with dinner, and that he would be right back. He did not, however, mention anything about returning with the cause of the night’s disaster. Esmé couldn’t keep the displeased look from taking over her face at the sight of Faust Widdershins as she entered the kitchen with Jerome. “Darling,” he said, “Faust has something she would like to say to you.” Esmé wiped the tears from her face as best she could, before saying in a slightly stuffed-up voice, “Oh?” Lowering her eyes to the floor, Faust replied in a small voice, “I’m sorry, Mrs. Squalor. For breaking your sugarbowl.” She hoped that Esmé had heard her and that Faust wouldn’t be asked to repeat herself, because apologizing was just about the most difficult thing in the world to do as far as she was concerned.
|
|
|
Post by Jenny on Aug 26, 2008 17:02:13 GMT -5
[It's fine!]
What was wrong with Jerome? It seemed to her that he was determined to make her life so much more difficult today. Inviting the Widdershins' to dinner was the first step in a logn chain of hideous events that had unfolded since that morning.
And now what could she do? She had no choice but to accept Faust's apology, even though she felt like sulking and shouting at the girl to speak up and stop being so pathetic.
But, she flashed a frown at her husband, and then turned to Fernald's daughter. 'That's quite alright, Faust,' she said, all too sweet. She felt like the enemy--since bringing her into the kitchen Fernald had not taken his hands away from his daughter's shoulders, as if he was afraid that Esmé was dangerous or something else ridiculous.
She might have expected that from Colette, but not Fernald.
'I accept your apology,' Esmé said, to clarify. 'It was only an accident after all. Just watch out for the china next time your climbing, OK?'
Faust made a little noise that might have been an answer, and it made Esmé a little angrier behind her perfect facade.
'Enjoy your dinner,' Esmé said, as this was the only way it seemed she would get anyone else to say anything. 'I'd tell you I made it, but really, my lasagna isn't all that legendary. I'm afraid it was my husband's work, as usual.'
Faust didn't need any other reason to escape the atmosphere in the kitchen, but her father stayed behind.
'I'm sorry, Esmé,' Fernald said, and pretended not to notice the fact that she had obviously been in tears over the situation. 'I know how much that particular item must have meant.'
|
|
|
Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Aug 26, 2008 19:42:08 GMT -5
[Great! Just wanted to make sure. ] “Yes,” Esmé replied with a sniffle. “Well, there’s nothing that can be done about it now, is there?” “I would be happy to pay for—” She waved her hand at Fernald. “That won’t be necessary, Fernald. The value in the sugarbowl is all sentiment, and therefore impossible to replace.” Fernald couldn’t say he wasn’t relieved that Esmé had refused his offer: if he could afford to give Faust a weekly allowance, then she would have been the one to pay for the damage of the sugarbowl. But Fernald had enough trouble trying to make ends meet enough as it was, and so he couldn’t really afford to pay for anything but the necessities of his and his family’s life. “Darling,” Jerome asked his wife, as he took notice of the crumpled-up napkins scattered across the table. “Are you alright?” “I will be,” Esmé replied. “Why don’t you and Fernald head back into the dining room and finish dinner?” “And leave you here all alone? I’d much rather—” “Perhaps I should go,” Fernald volunteered. “I can see you two would like to be alone.” He didn’t mention his desire to hurry back into the dining room and make sure that his wife hadn’t revealed anymore information to Emma concerning her mother. *** “What did you mean before,” Emma asked Colette, “when you said that my mother should be grateful not to be in prison?” Colette’s jaw dropped, and she looked up just as her husband re-entered the dining room. “What Colette meant,” Fernald said, and chuckled, “was that when your mother was younger, she enjoyed dressing in the most outlandish clothing she could find. I remember this one time, she actually wore a gown that was made to resemble fire.” Carmelita felt herself smile a little at that. Esmé had been wearing her fire dress on the day the two of them had met, which was one of Carmelita’s fondest memories.
|
|
|
Post by Jenny on Aug 27, 2008 9:41:30 GMT -5
Nevertheless, Emma didn't seem fooled. The way Colette had spoken the words was enough to tell the thirteen year old that she hadn't been referring to anything as trivial as dressing in outlandish outfits. Emma had always been inquisitive by nature, and although she was unable to continue asking questions now she was positive that she would get the answer from someone later.
The lasagna was delicious, but partly cold, and Colette hadn't touched it since it had been served to her. The only person who seemed to have gotten even remotely close to finishing their food was Nero, who had never stopped eating throughout all of the drama. Why waste perectly good food? He was tempted to ask his wife if she had any intention of eating her portion, but decided against it. Her adoptive parents never allowed her to refuse a meal completely after what had happened when she was younger, even if Esmé herself rarely ate anything and especially not in front of anyone. He thought it was a little hypocritical, personally, but supposed he would never know all of the story behind it, and so kept quiet.
Faust returned to her place beside her mother, and glanced over at Emma frequently throughout the meal, only to be met with cold glances in return every time. Had Jerome not joined the table a few minutes later (not accompanied by his wife, which must have seemed strange to the Widdershins'), Nero firmly believed that nopbody would have spoken a word to each other throughout the meal.
Jerome sat at the head of the table, acting as almost a bridge between the two sides, and made conversation about absolutely anything that came to mind.
'Carmelita's a chef,' he said in between mouthfuls of lasagna. 'She works in Café Salmonella. She really is an excellent cook--you should drop in to Café Salmonella sometime and try some of the fish.'
'We can't afford it,' Faust blurted, repeating what she had heard said by her parents so many times, and didn't understand why both of her parents shook their heads and sighed. Maybe she really did need to learn to think before she spoke.
|
|
|
Post by Emma “Emmz” Squalor on Aug 27, 2008 11:21:21 GMT -5
“We’re on a budget,” Fernald answered quickly. “It’s a rarity that we dine out, and usually only do so on special occasions.”
Emma saw no point in mentioning the Squalors’ weekly outings to the theater, and then to either the Veritable French Diner or Café Salmonella for dinner.
“I eat for free at Café Salmonella,” Emma said to Faust, “just because my sister works there. Maybe you and I could go sometime.” Emma turned hopefully to Carmelita. “That is, if Carmy doesn’t mind.”
She shook her head. “Not at all,” she said. “I think it’s a lovely idea. Just drop by the restaurant after school one day next week.”
Fernald cleared his throat. “We appreciate your kind offer, Mrs. Spats,” he said, and Carmelita couldn’t help but frown at the way the hook-handed man had addressed her. It reminded her of her mother who, along with her father, had placed Carmelita in the care of an orphanage when she was just ten years old. She had never fully forgiven either of her biological parents for this, nor the couple who had adopted her shortly after before turning around and doing the exact same thing that Mr. and Mrs. Spats had done. “But Faust attends an entirely different school from Emma.”
“Oh,” Carmelita said, and the surprise in her voice was evident. She had never stopped to consider that Faust didn’t attend Prufrock Prep, seeing as Carmelita herself had attended the academy for eight years. Not to mention it was the same school in which Emma was getting her education now, and where Carmelita’s husband served as the vice principal. “I had no idea. I just assumed—”
A heavy sigh from Colette interrupted Carmelita, and she looked across the table at the contortionist. “I think,” Colette said, “that through meeting us, you’ll find that not everyone is fortunate enough to grow up in the lap of luxury, or to land themselves a wealthy husband.”
Carmelita could feel her anger towards Colette begin to build, and like Emma had done earlier, Carmelita fixed her eyes on the pretty blonde woman. “I’ll thank you to leave my parents out of this,” Carmelita said hotly.
“I wasn’t referring to them,” replied Colette. “I was referring to you. And the man beside you.”
|
|