competition afterwards. She’d cut the piece from the newspaper and framed it.
“Please, don’t tell me you’re buying her act.”
I turned and faced Hayden. “I’m not. To be honest, I don’t know what to think. I was sure it was an act until these.” I waved at the wall and explained each drawing. “I drew some of these when I was older.”
“This is staged, Celestia. She probably had a vision of you visiting and went through old pictures. Your last meeting was three weeks ago and she never showed remorse.”
“I know.” Which made all this confusing. I sat down and sighed.
“I tried to get inside her head just now and couldn’t. That’s never happened to me before. Why block me if she has nothing to hide?”
“What if she’s changed?”
“Really? This fast? Don’t let her win you over with empty words and drawings,” Hayden whispered just as Marguerite returned. A woman followed her with a tray with three glasses and a pitcher of lemonade. “And don’t touch the drink. It’s probably poisoned,” Hayden added.
I wasn’t planning on drinking anything. Marguerite introduced me to the cook and completely ignored Hayden again; then she poured drinks in the tall glasses and took one. “To you, my daughter. May you continue on the wonderful path you’ve chosen and may all your dreams come true.”
I picked up the other glass, but Hayden shook her head. She looked ready to knock it out of my hand. I waited until Marguerite sipped hers before bringing mine to my lips. I tilted the glass, but didn’t take a sip. I placed the glass down.
“So what do you want to know?” Marguerite asked. “Ask me anything.”
“Actually, we’re not here to sing Kumbaya and give you absolution,” Hayden said. “We are looking for your daughter, Anne Marie.”
Marguerite went pale. She turned slowly to face me and tilted her head to the side as though thinking. Her lips curled up and her right eye twitched. There were certain things I hadn’t forgotten about her. The way she would lull me into believing she was about to be nice, and turn mean. Whatever was about to come out of her mouth would be a lie.
“Yes, I adopted Marie. I thought she was an orphan like the others, but it turned out she was more. Angrboda asked that I adopt her, and when the Webbers were taking the orphans, she asked that I send her with them. I didn’t know she was Eirik’s sister until the orphans came back and told me.”
I wondered which part of that story was a lie. I wanted to ask her which orphan gave her the information, but someone rattled on the door and a woman stuck her head into the room.
“Ms. Marguerite. We have a situation in the basement.”
Marguerite stood, the smile disappearing from her face. “I’ll be down shortly.” She waited until the woman left before adding, “I’m sorry I have to cut our meeting short. But we should meet again. Maybe go for coffee?”
“Sure,” I said. Hayden groaned.
We left her office. A door slammed ahead and a girl about ten entered the hallway. She saw us and stopped.
“Jorja, are you supposed to be painting, or skipping in the hallway?” Marguerite asked, her voice firm but kind.
“But I’m done, Ms. Marguerite. See?” She whipped a canvas from behind her and showed it off. It was a watercolor of a flower garden.
“It is beautiful,” Marguerite said. “Didn’t I tell you how precious and talented you are?”
“Yes you did. Can I go to the dining room for a snack?”
“Of course, dear.” Marguerite patted her arm. “I hope that beautiful painting will sit in my office.”
Jorja laughed. “No, it’s for the competition, but you can keep it afterwards.” Then she looked at me. “You are Celestia.”
“Yes, I am.”
“I’ve seen your picture in Ms. Marguerite’s office, and you draw just like me.”
“Run along and see the cook, sweetheart, then head to the lounge room. No eating in your room. Ask the cook to give you milk, too.”
“I
“Please, don’t tell me you’re buying her act.”
I turned and faced Hayden. “I’m not. To be honest, I don’t know what to think. I was sure it was an act until these.” I waved at the wall and explained each drawing. “I drew some of these when I was older.”
“This is staged, Celestia. She probably had a vision of you visiting and went through old pictures. Your last meeting was three weeks ago and she never showed remorse.”
“I know.” Which made all this confusing. I sat down and sighed.
“I tried to get inside her head just now and couldn’t. That’s never happened to me before. Why block me if she has nothing to hide?”
“What if she’s changed?”
“Really? This fast? Don’t let her win you over with empty words and drawings,” Hayden whispered just as Marguerite returned. A woman followed her with a tray with three glasses and a pitcher of lemonade. “And don’t touch the drink. It’s probably poisoned,” Hayden added.
I wasn’t planning on drinking anything. Marguerite introduced me to the cook and completely ignored Hayden again; then she poured drinks in the tall glasses and took one. “To you, my daughter. May you continue on the wonderful path you’ve chosen and may all your dreams come true.”
I picked up the other glass, but Hayden shook her head. She looked ready to knock it out of my hand. I waited until Marguerite sipped hers before bringing mine to my lips. I tilted the glass, but didn’t take a sip. I placed the glass down.
“So what do you want to know?” Marguerite asked. “Ask me anything.”
“Actually, we’re not here to sing Kumbaya and give you absolution,” Hayden said. “We are looking for your daughter, Anne Marie.”
Marguerite went pale. She turned slowly to face me and tilted her head to the side as though thinking. Her lips curled up and her right eye twitched. There were certain things I hadn’t forgotten about her. The way she would lull me into believing she was about to be nice, and turn mean. Whatever was about to come out of her mouth would be a lie.
“Yes, I adopted Marie. I thought she was an orphan like the others, but it turned out she was more. Angrboda asked that I adopt her, and when the Webbers were taking the orphans, she asked that I send her with them. I didn’t know she was Eirik’s sister until the orphans came back and told me.”
I wondered which part of that story was a lie. I wanted to ask her which orphan gave her the information, but someone rattled on the door and a woman stuck her head into the room.
“Ms. Marguerite. We have a situation in the basement.”
Marguerite stood, the smile disappearing from her face. “I’ll be down shortly.” She waited until the woman left before adding, “I’m sorry I have to cut our meeting short. But we should meet again. Maybe go for coffee?”
“Sure,” I said. Hayden groaned.
We left her office. A door slammed ahead and a girl about ten entered the hallway. She saw us and stopped.
“Jorja, are you supposed to be painting, or skipping in the hallway?” Marguerite asked, her voice firm but kind.
“But I’m done, Ms. Marguerite. See?” She whipped a canvas from behind her and showed it off. It was a watercolor of a flower garden.
“It is beautiful,” Marguerite said. “Didn’t I tell you how precious and talented you are?”
“Yes you did. Can I go to the dining room for a snack?”
“Of course, dear.” Marguerite patted her arm. “I hope that beautiful painting will sit in my office.”
Jorja laughed. “No, it’s for the competition, but you can keep it afterwards.” Then she looked at me. “You are Celestia.”
“Yes, I am.”
“I’ve seen your picture in Ms. Marguerite’s office, and you draw just like me.”
“Run along and see the cook, sweetheart, then head to the lounge room. No eating in your room. Ask the cook to give you milk, too.”
“I
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