She climbed the foyer main staircase, trailing her fingertips along the polished wood railing.Quite nice.
There were five suites of bedrooms in total.The first was decidedly male.Malika moved on.The third suite was the one most to her liking.It was charming.The walls were painted a pretty, pale pink.The overstuffed furniture was cream and floral.In the bedroom, the canopied bed was queen-sized and soft.A large, claw-foot tub next to the glass-walled shower in the bathroom screamedwelcomeafter dusty hours spent on horseback.Best of all, the bathroom was well-stocked with toiletries.
She returned to the sitting room and drew the floor-length drapes aside, revealing patio doors and a large, private balcony.She parted the doors, stepped outside, and squealed in delight.
It was as if she were standing on a raised platform in a small forest clearing.Huddled treetops embraced her.The mountain trail hadn’t impressed her, but this was different.The trail appealed to men.It had been carved from the land to serve their purpose.
This, however.
This was a fairyland, and in it, she was its dryad princess.Had Adeel known how much this would please her?She began to think kindlier of him.Perhaps she’d wait until after the wedding before she made her escape.
Besides, her plan needed further fine-tuning.The town was even more isolated than she’d expected, and it would be a very long walk on foot to the ranch.She’d have to borrow a horse.She should also leave at night, when Adeel was asleep, but for her to follow that poor excuse for a road after dark, she’d need some sort of light.When was the next full moon?She’d had no reason to pay attention to lunar cycles before.
She peered up at the small slice of midnight-hued sky, with edges that bled to magenta, which was all she could see through the trees other than a light freckling of stars, trying to determine the phase of the moon but without luck.Nevertheless, excitement left her lightheaded and giddy.
Adeel believed he had outwitted her.
She would show him.
Chapter Four
Malika
Burning Scrub hadan excellent chef.The dolmas were beyond delicious, as were the Greek salad and fresh bread, and the baklava served for dessert.After they ate, Malika then followed the instructions for the dishwasher, which had been printed out and posted to its door.She went to bed feeling quite accomplished for having completed the role of servant without any helpful pointers from Adeel as to where she’d fallen short.
She woke early.An excellent night’s sleep, combined with the wind lightly stirring the treetops outside her open window, meant her spirits were high when Pearl Lovett, the seamstress, arrived at the front door the next morning and introduced herself.
Pearl had a beautiful little girl and a red wagon in tow.The little girl, who Malika learned was her daughter, carried a wicker basket covered with checkered cloth.The red wagon hauled six thick bolts of fabric, several folded articles of clothing, and an array of dressmaker supplies.
While Pearl was attractive, and her daughter exceedingly so, their terrible sense of style did not do their looks justice.Pearl’s simple blue bodice and matching flowered blue skirt had been cobbled together from plain cotton.The skirt fell to her ankles.Her boots, usually a fashion item Malika adored, were hook-and-eye, heelless, and ugly.Her daughter wore a rose-colored gingham dress that covered her knees but exposed boots like her mother’s, although hers were paired with terrible pink stockings.Matching aprons accentuated the horror.
This poorly styled woman was to be responsible for creating the bespoke clothing Adeel promised her?Malika didn’t think so.
“Thank you for coming,” she said politely, “but please inform your grand couturier that I prefer to deal directly with him.”She had words for him about how his representatives presented themselves, too.
Pearl Lovett laughed.“There is no grand couturier, I’m afraid.I’m Burning Scrub’s costume designer.Town residents and guests dress in period clothing.My dress and Linda’s are everyday work clothes, but we can come up with something better suited to you.Women came West from all over the world and all stations of life.”She scanned Malika with a professional eye.“French fashion was very popular and pretty.Why don’t we start there?”
Adeel’s death would be prolonged and painful.
And yet, the idea of wearing a period costume of French design was intriguing.The French weretrés chic, no matter the era.She was also wearing the same clothes from yesterday, and they reeked of horse.Smell was almost as important as appearance.
She graciously stepped away from the door so the woman and child could enter.
Adeel descended the stairs as Pearl carried an armload of fabric into the lodge.His attire was as atrocious as that of the costume designer, and it did not speak well of her skill.Why must the checked wool fabric of his trousers be so poorly woven?Why must they droop in the seat?There were some things about the past that should never be recreated.
“Welcome, Ali,” Pearl said to Adeel, her sunny smile warm.“It’s so good to see you again.We’re so glad you could come to the wedding.Linda, sweetheart,” she said to her daughter, “take Malika and Mister Ali’s breakfast into the kitchen while I get set up in the front room.Malika, you might want to eat something before we get started.”
Malika was hungry.She followed Linda into the kitchen.The fair-haired little girl struggled to lift the heavy basket onto the counter, so Malika relieved her of it.A quick peek under the cloth revealed fresh fruit, Greek yogurt, cubes of butter and cheese, and fresh rolls.
When she looked up, Linda was staring at her.
“You have weird eyes,” the little girl said.
She had many nieces and nephews, and children were refreshingly honest and free with their opinions.Since her unique, light-green eyes were a source of great pride, her feelings weren’t about to be hurt.“Weird in a good way or a bad way?”
“Good, I guess.”
“Of course it’s good.My eyes are the envy of my sisters, and my sisters are all very beautiful,” Malika informed her.
