“Yes.”
“I’m… familiar with the town. I know the streetcar routes. What route put you in the way of my parlour?”
None of them. I didn’t take a streetcar. I walked home—any excuse to be away from there longer.
And am I supposed to say that to her? I was willing to spend hours walking if those hours weren’t at home? Right as we’re on the elevator there?
Great Ring, please save me from myself.
“You don’t have to answer,” she whispers.
I lift my eyes up, daring to look at hers. I’ve never noticed their hue, soft and pink. Unpatronized—the kind had by Ringborn without consorts. “Thank you.”
The elevator rattles, door opening.
I lead her. “Room three one zero. Top floor. The view’s a bit luxurious.”
“It must be if you could have such high dreams.”
That was a… joke. It’s gentle. She’s given ones which treated me as… someone tolerable, but this one treats me as though I’m worthy of smiling.
“You’re acting a bit weird,” I comment.
She bites, “keep your words in line. I am your mistress, not someone you speak casually to.”
“Sorry.”
I instinctively check my pockets for the key that I absolutely did leave in my old clothes at the Parlour. I should’ve… Can’t now, I guess. I just knock on the door.
My mother’s the one to open it. “Catie! You look…”
I can’t tell if she’s stunned or disappointed.
She pulls her sight off me and onto Mistress Vincenza. “Are you Lucia?”
“No! Absolutely not,” I rush.
“Is Lucia your… I’m Mistress Vincenza Nasciowa. My apprentice here is your daughter, I assume?”
“Yes.” My mother steps back and invites us inside. “It’s Cecilia de Alioni. Her father is still at sea, but some of Catie’s brothers are joining us.”
“I will be present for the dinner if you have one, but I won’t be eating,” Mistress Vincenza says.
“I’ll have it ready in twenty minutes, if you want some then. Just sit down and… you can switch the radio as you like.”
“The hospitality is appreciated.”
Laid out before us are all the greatest reasons I have to be embarrassed. A crowded space. Brothers with clothing so worn that my interview ‘dress’ retroactively seems regal in comparison. There’s even a whole brotherless pile of clothing on the couch in case Mistress Vincenza was avoiding eye contact.
“Welcome back, Ca—Woah.” Vivian, the worst of my brothers, puts down the model ship he’s been working on. “You look completely different.”
That’s a small relief; I spent an hour on makeup this morning. “I’m supposed to.”
“You’re not completely different,” Mistress Vincenza comments in barely a whisper.
“I know. But I will be, won’t I?”
“You can.”
