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This being why we were there.
Multitasking, Loren was giving me a phaeton-driving lesson on the way to see said exhibit.
“Don’t think I missed that you nearly took out that unsuspecting milk cart,” Aunt Mary snapped.
Loren twisted and I looked down to see her standing by our carriage under her black parasol, something she had open, even if her hat shaded her entire body, and another half a foot in circumference besides. Her ever-present handbag was dangling from her wrist (seriously, she was like the Queen of England, she even brought that thing to the dinner table).
Last, her dour expression was aimed at me.
She adjusted her aim to Loren.
“I told you it was folly, teaching a woman to drive a carriage. Did you listen?” She lifted her handbag in order to snap her fingers irritably, if ineffectually, since her hands were in gloves. “No, you did not.”
“I was startled by the horse, Aunt Mary,” I told her.
“A pile of stones is hardly startling.”
A pile of stones?
I returned my attention to the horse.
The rubies in his eyes had to be bigger than my fist.
I looked back to Aunt Mary, losing a fight with a smile. “Do we need to take you to have your vision examined?”
Her face screwed up and she turned back to Loren. “You spoil my niece.”
At the same time he was alighting, Loren was nodding to a blue uniform guy who apparently was there to see to our carriage.
Once to the sidewalk, he lifted his hand to me, I took it, and he helped me down.
Only when he had me tucked to his side, did he turn to Aunt Mary, and completely unperturbed, reply, “Indeed.”
I fought melting into a puddle of goo.
Maxie, standing close to Mom who was now beside Aunt Mary, giggled.
I looked to her and winked.
“Just like your father,” Mary huffed. “He doted on your mother. She was, fortunately for him, and, I daresay, us all, a supremely sensible female, not a woman to have her head turned by such imprudence, may she be held to the bosom of Brigid. Your sister, however, was indulged beyond imagining. You were all very lucky she was so charming and of such a sweet disposition, or it would have been the ruin of her.”
After delivering that, she snapped down her parasol, took it by it folds, and shook the handle at me.
She then carried on.
“Mark that, girl,” she warned.
“Mary,” Mom said softly, before I could say something to tease Aunt Mary.
And the way Mom spoke made me look to her.
When I did, and I saw how she was gazing at Loren, I turned my head up to him.
His jaw was hard, his lips were tight, and my heart lurched.
“My boy,” Aunt Mary whispered, sounding contrite.
“It’s fine, Mary,” Loren said.
“I meant no—”
Loren didn’t let her finish. “As I said, it’s fine.”
Aunt Mary gave big eyes to Mom. Mom stretched her lips down at Aunt Mary.
I struggled to think what to say while standing on a busy sidewalk outside a museum.
“Can we go inside?” Maxine asked excitedly.
“Of course, poppet,” Loren murmured.
Maxine broke from Mom, came to Loren’s other side, hooked her arm in his, and guided us both toward the museum in a way that seemed, oddly, like she was saving him from Aunt Mary.
Beyond that, although in the last few days there had been a marked change in her—it was evident she was getting used to all of us and her reticence was quickly disappearing—that was in our zone of home and walks to the shops and trips to the park.
We were now out in public, at a large, bustling museum, and although she expressed her desire to come with us, and she was very animated about that, we had all planned to keep a close eye on her to make sure she was good with it.
From the way she charged forth, she was more than good with it.
Which, I had to admit, was a relief, but it was also a surprise.
The place was busy, but of course, there was VIP treatment there too, and Loren availed us all of it.
Therefore, in no time, and with no bothering with the long lines, we were in the thick of the exhibition that included terrifying swords, bows and arrows that were obviously not mass-produced, but they looked far from primitive, and bejeweled daggers. There were also intricately woven rugs, exceptionally crafted silver chalices, extraordinary jewelry, startling mosaics and even an enormous silk tent erected so you could go inside. And the interior was so sumptuously appointed, I was rethinking Loren taking an ambassadorship. Because if that was how they lived in Firenze, I was all in for the adventure.
It took a while, and me fielding a variety of see to that! looks from my mother to get Loren to myself, away from the crowd (which, not incidentally, but we were gamely ignoring it, were almost as fascinated with us as they were with the exhibit), as well as away from Mom, Aunt Mary and Maxie.
