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I nod. “Really.”
“I’d like that very much.”
“Great! Let’s go get our swimsuits on,” I say, hoping whoever packed my things packed my bathing suit.
I help Angelique with hers first. She has a—surprise—yellow swimsuit with ruffles which she clearly loves. In her bathroom I brush out her hair and tie it into a curly ponytail to keep it out of her face. Then we walk toward my bedroom where I find the glass has been cleaned up. Angelique follows me inside and looks around as I go through the dresser drawers to find a swimsuit.
Some of my things have been unpacked and some of the drawers contain new clothes. I don’t find any of my own suits, but I do see three brand new bikinis. They’re all a little smaller than I’d choose for myself but they’re my size, so I pick a yellow one to match Angelique and slip into the bathroom to change.
When I return, I find her sitting at my desk flipping through one of my notebooks.
“What are these?” she asks, her little finger tracing the notes on a page. “They’re not words.”
“No, they’re music.”
“Music?”
I smile and nod. “I play the violin,” I tell her, pointing to my violin still in its case. I pick it up, set it on the desk and unzip it to show her. “See.”
“Oh.”
She climbs up to stand on the chair and leans toward the instrument. A few moments later, she reaches out a tentative hand to touch the old wood. It’s a used violin and was well-loved when my parents bought it for me years ago. I don’t mind. I love it. In fact, I prefer a used, old violin to a brand new one. I can just imagine how much it was loved before I loved it.
“It’s so pretty. Can I hear you play it Belle? I mean Isabelle.”
“You can call me Belle. I’m used to it.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“Thank you, Belle. I’ve never heard the violin,” she says.
“You probably have but don’t know it. I’ll play for you later, okay?”
“I’d like that.” She glances at my bikini and smiles. “I love your bathing suit,” she says. “It’s like mine.”
“We match,” I tell her and pull on my robe. She wears one too. “Sunscreen?” I ask.
She shrugs her shoulders, and we make our way downstairs, still carrying Baby Bear. In the kitchen I find Catherine, the woman who served breakfast. She seems surprised to see us dressed to swim.
“I’m not sure about that,” the older woman says.
“Belle can swim,” Angelique says. “And we’ll be careful.”
“I’ll take good care of her,” I tell the woman. “Please don’t worry. I’m an excellent swimmer. Was even on the swim team throughout high school and a lifeguard at the local pool over summer breaks.”
She seems hesitant but hands us the sunscreen. “All right.”
“Are there any pool toys?” I ask.
She appears confused. “Toys?”
“Um, yes, like floats?”
She shakes her head like it’s the first time she’s ever heard anything like it.
“Well, shall we?” I ask Angelique who smiles wide as we head back out to the pool. She sets Baby Bear on a lounge chair and covers him with her robe.
