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Manuela knew this was as much of an admission of concern from her friend as she would receive. And the truth was she would’ve said something, if she had any idea of what had happened. It had been perfect until it hadn’t. One minute she was having a wonderful morning, and the next Cora couldn’t get rid of her fast enough. She suspected it had to do with the meeting Cora seemed to have forgotten about, but Manuela would’ve understood that if Cora had simply taken a moment to explain. She had an appointment of her own to attend to.
Except she would likely have canceled hers if it meant spending more time with Cora. She’d been considering doing that very thing when they’d been interrupted. She was such a fool. She’d truly thought something had changed between them last night. Something was certainly different abouther. Not just because of Cora but everything she’d experienced since they started this adventure.
It was the way they’d made love, it was the Paris she’d seen in Montmartre, it was the women she’d met at Cassandra’s and Claudine’s.
“Ay, Manuela, habla por favor,” Aurora protested, tugging on her arm. “You’re starting to worry me.”
“Nothing is wrong, not really,” she shrugged. “Last night was...”Revelatory. Transcendental. Devastatingly perfect.“I just...”
“You want more,” Aurora finished for her, but for once her friend’s voice didn’t have that exasperated undertone. She was also right.
She did want more. She wanted too much.
“You can say it,” Manuela sighed, ready for the well-earnedI told you sos, but Aurora only pressed closer to her side as they weaved their way through the crowded sidewalk. “This was extremely foolish, and now I have developed feelings for a person who I can never have.”
Aurora was quiet for a long time, so long that they’d almost reached the entrance to the Passage des Panaromas, where the academy was located, before she spoke.
“Manuela, why would I blame you for playing your last card and hoping for a win?” Aurora turned to look at her, and there was no recrimination there, no judgment. “So what if what you did is not what I would’ve done? Last night when I was talking to Frederica, she told me that in order to get Cassandra away from her family, they had to essentially pay her parents a ransom. They didn’t even need the money, but they wanted to leave the two of them with as little as possible. Make them regret their choices.”
Manuela swallowed down the lump in her throat and thought of the stoic Frede and the ebullient Cassandra and their little warm home where everyone was welcome. Of Cassandra, who was even now waiting for Manuela at the academy to introduce her to more artists, more people to make her feel less alone.
“It is true that things have not been easy for me,” Aurora continued softly, as if she was contemplating something inside her. “But my choice to sacrifice myself for my dreams of a clinic will only affect myself, and I will never have to worry about my livelihood. Those are not your choices. Women are dealt such a measly hand, we are just trying to make the best of it, and I will not judge you for how you do it, Leona.”
“Thank you,” Manuela said, as they reached the entrance to the Passage. “I know how hard it is for you to be comforting.”
Aurora balked at that and then dissolved into a rueful laugh.
“And thank you for coming with me today,” Manuela said as they reached the academy’s unassuming storefront.
Aurora shrugged as she peered into the small window on the door. “It is no trouble. I am growing quite fond of these sapphic outings.” Manuela rolled her eyes at Aurora and leaned in herself to get a look inside. Behind the glass there was a display which showcased a variety of paintings Manuela assumed were by the students. There was a small sitting room, and beyond that was a large studio where a class was being conducted.
Manuela was debating whether to knock or just walk in when Aurora spoke. “Oh, there’s Cassandra.” Cora’s friend was indeed walking away from the cluster of students and easels and was waving at them through the window. Next to her was an older man, who had to be the famed Aristide Pasquale.
The moment they were inside, they began their introductions, Cassandra speaking to Pasquale about Aurora and Manuela as if they were old friends. “Guess where Aristide and I just returned from?” Cassandra asked.
“I hope it wasn’t still at Le Chat Tordu,” Manuela teased, making Cassandra giggle.
“We went to the Rapp Gallery and encountered two pieces by one Manuela Caceres Galvan in averyprominent place among the exhibit from the Americas.”
Manuela frowned at her words, wondering if Cassandra was mocking her.
“Your work is very good,” the master told her, his eyes warm as he took her hand. Manuela thanked him, still confused about where they’d seen her paintings.
“Did they add more paintings to the alcove?” she asked. Cassandra didn’t seem to understand the question. “Other than my pieces, there were just two others up there when I visited.” Which had been that night she’d signed the blasted contract with Cora.
“No,” Cassandra said with a shake of her head. “We found your pieces in one of the larger rooms on the first floor.”
“The usher in the room did say they had been recently moved there,” Monsieur Pasquale added.
“Right,” Cassandra concurred, her brow suddenly low on her forehead as if she had just realized something. “One of the gallery’s directors instructed them to do so a week or so ago.”
A week or so ago. Could Cora have...? No, it couldn’t be. Who would do something kind and romantic like that and then not even mention it?
A stubborn, deeply infuriating woman who insisted on pretending she had no heart. One who quietly made sure her friends had the food from their homeland at their table, who sponsored art students, who paid for women to wear trousers if they chose to, who raised her stepson like her own, who secretly slept in a pink bedchamber, and who was loved and respected by good people.Thatwould be the kind of infuriating creature who would pull a stunt like that. Manuela could throttle her, except if she had her in front of her right now all she’d manage was to launch herself into her arms and kiss her until they both couldn’t breathe.
Cora Kempf Bristol truly was trying to drive her mad.
“Manuela.” Aurora’s voice pulled her from the whirlpool of emotions that Cora’s confounding behavior had once again pitched her into.
