Going Down In Flames: Bridges Burned Part 22

"Blond?" Bryn said with a grin.

"Yes." She swallowed and seemed to regain her composure. "Come with me. I'm sure we have something perfect for you."

Right.

The woman whisked her off to a dressing room and then returned with a dozen dresses. Wait. Not dresses. They were gowns...actual ball gowns made of what she knew had to be real silk. Every single one had ruffles or sequins or lace. The bodices were stiff and the skirts were floor length.

None of them looked like something her grandmother might wear. Was this a test?

"Excuse me, I need to ask my grandmother a question." She stuck her head out of the dressing room. "Do the gowns have to be so...frilly?"

"Frilly?" Her grandmother frowned. "What do you mean?"

"The dresses are age appropriate," the saleslady said.

"I'm sure these dresses would be lovely for someone else. I'd prefer something without ruffles, or lace, or sequins." She looked at her grandmother. "Unless you disagree. I've never been to a ball before, so maybe I don't understand what's expected."

Her grandmother shot the saleslady a look that would've reduced a small child to tears. "Remove those gowns from the dressing room and find Bryn a strapless silk sheath dress in a dignified color."

"Of course. My mistake." The saleslady scurried off to do as her grandmother asked. When she was out of hearing range, Bryn said, "One of the dresses had ruffles and lace and sequins. I think there might have been some feathers mixed in as well." She shuddered. "It was awful."

"Was it lavender?" Lillith asked.

Bryn nodded.

"That dress has been here forever. I think they've been trying to p.a.w.n it off on some poor girl for the last twenty years."

The saleslady returned with a handful of dresses. Tight-lipped, she hung them in the dressing room and then retreated to the cash register.

Bryn examined her choices. This was more like it.

There was an emerald sleeveless gown that resembled something an actress might wear on the red carpet. Could she pull it off? Only one way to find out. Stripping out of her clothes, Bryn slid into the whisper soft silk. She checked the three-way mirror and did a small happy dance. The dress fit like a glove. The knee-length slit allowed her to walk without shuffling her feet.

She stepped out of the dressing room. "What do you think?"

Lillith clapped her hands together. "It's lovely."

Head tilted to the side, her grandmother scanned Bryn from head to toe. "Turn around."

Ignoring the resentment she felt at being ordered around like a puppy, Bryn did as her grandmother asked. When she completed the rotation she expected to find her grandmother nodding in approval. This was not the case.

"Tell me those tattoos aren't permanent," her grandmother said.

Bryn's throat grew tight. Zavien had drawn the tattoos with permanent marker. Bryn used her skill with Quintessence to keep them vibrant, thereby avoiding needles. She'd requested the image of the Blue and Red dragons, head to tail in a yin-yang circle, because it represented who she was. Zavien had added a small black dragon on her right shoulder signifying she was an honorary Black dragon. She could remove the black dragon, but the yin-yang dragons representing her mixed parentage stayed.

"Do you dislike tattoos in general, or mine in particular?"

"Both." Shoulders squared, her grandmother appeared ready to do battle.

Bryn took a deep breath and blew it out. There were going to be b.u.mps in this road to reunion, but in the end it would be worth it. Hopefully. "If you can give a little, I'll give a little. The yin-yang dragons stay, and I'll make the smaller one disappear."

"I'd prefer it the other way around." Her grandmother straightened the sleeve of her blouse.

"It represents who I am." Bryn smoothed her hands over the skirt of the gown. "Even if I remove the tattoo, people will know who my parents are. I won't hide my heritage to make others comfortable."

Fingers drumming on the armrest of the couch, her grandmother's lips set in a thin line. "Fine. Now, let's talk about your hair color, or colors. Perhaps you could pick one?"

That did it. Bryn concentrated and s.h.i.+fted the Quintessence in her body to color her hair neon green. "Like this, you mean?"

Lillith seemed overcome by a coughing fit, to hide her laughter.

Her grandmother reached up to rub the bridge of her nose. "You are your mother's daughter. Aren't you?"

"I am." Maybe this wasn't going to work. A hollow feeling settled in her stomach. "If you want someone to smile and nod, I'm not your girl."

"You're the only granddaughter I have. My hope is you'll mature and grow out of this odd hair phase. For now, change your hair back, and eliminate the smaller tattoo." Her grandmother turned to face the saleslady. "We need shoes and a small, tasteful handbag."

"Emerald green is such a lovely color." Lillith touched Jaxon's shoulder. "A bow tie in that color would be striking with your black tuxedo."

"No." Jaxon spoke in a voice that mimicked his father's.

Lillith s.n.a.t.c.hed her hand back like she'd been burned. Her eyes filled with tears.

Jaxon sighed. "I'm sorry, Mother. I didn't mean to sound harsh. Rhianna is still my date, and my bow tie will match her gown."

d.a.m.n it. There Jaxon went again, doing something nice.

"I appreciate your loyalty, young man, but the argument is pointless," Bryn's grandmother said. "This morning I received word Rhianna and her family will be traveling to Europe over the holidays. Be that as it may, the tradition of matching bow ties to gowns may be appropriate for school dances, but not for an actual ball."

Lillith sniffled. "Ferrin matches his ties to my gowns."

Her grandmother gave a tight smile. "I see. Perhaps I am old-fas.h.i.+oned in my thinking. If you wish to buy Jaxon the matching emerald bow tie, please do."

"I don't believe Father would find an emerald bow tie amusing. If you'll excuse me, I have homework to complete." Jaxon headed for the door, pus.h.i.+ng it open so hard it bounced against the wall and rattled the gla.s.s in the windowpanes.

"He has a temper like his father," Lillith said.

"Which is why I wish you'd stop trying to fix us up. If you keep pus.h.i.+ng Jaxon and me together, one of us won't come out alive."

Bryn's grandmother rose and came toward her until they were arm's length apart. "Do you enjoy flying?"

Was this a trick question? "Yes."

"Do you still want to become a medic?"

Not knowing what was coming, Bryn nodded and waited for her grandmother to move in for the kill.

"And do you think your parents enjoy their isolation? Don't they miss flying?"

She'd never thought of her parents in those terms before. When did they have time to fly? The simple fact that she'd never suspected they were anything but human told her how infrequent their flights must have been. A weight of sadness pressed on her heart.

"I can see it in your eyes. You realize now what they gave up. You will marry whomever the Directorate chooses if you wish to live this life."

"Are you trying to blackmail me?"

"No." Her grandmother reached to cup her chin. "I'm trying to save you. Understand this: marriage is a legal contract that produces children. Nothing more. Love isn't part of the equation."

Bryn felt her nails digging into her palms and unclenched her fists. "Did you ever love your husband?"

"No. And I'm better off for it." Leaning in, her grandmother pressed a light kiss on her cheek. "I'll have your gown delivered to our estate. You can dress there before the ball."

Her grandmother exited the boutique.

"She's right, you know," Lillith said.

The blond woman looked so fragile sitting on the couch alone.

Bryn joined her. "Right about what?"

"It's better not to love someone who can't love you back." Lillith sighed and averted her gaze. "When my contract with Ferrin was approved, I thought myself the luckiest girl in the world. He was so handsome. When he came to call on me at school, he was the perfect gentleman. All my cla.s.smates were jealous.

"It wasn't until we were married that I noticed his lack of warmth. At first, I thought I'd done something wrong. Gradually I came to realize he'd never recovered from your mother's defection. I could never live up to her memory. So I stopped trying."

Not knowing what else to say, Bryn went with her gut. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not. I have a good life. My son loves me. And I have another child on the way. I'm happy. You could be happy with Jaxon."

It was difficult to swallow over the lump in her throat. Lillith and her grandmother meant well, but a loveless life would never be enough. "There is no way Ferrin will allow me to marry Jaxon." Thank G.o.d. "It's silly to discuss this."

"A few weeks ago, I would've agreed. Rhianna's accident opened a door for you. Jaxon is handsome, smart, and loyal."

Bryn sat back and crossed her arms over her chest. "He's stubborn and he has a foul temper."

A slow grin spread across Lillith's face. "Must be like looking in a mirror."

Not like she could argue that point. "Fine. Our temperaments are similar. That alone should be reason for us not to marry. Think about how obnoxious your grandchildren would be."

"I know you respect my son," Lillith went on, ignoring Bryn's argument. "And he respects you. That is a good foundation for a relations.h.i.+p."

This conversation was going nowhere. Bryn pushed to her feet. "Believe what you will. I'm going to change out of this dress, go back to Fonzoli's and spend time with Valmont."

When she reached the restaurant there was a line out the door of people waiting to be seated. c.r.a.p. Maybe she could sneak in the back. The door to the kitchen stood wide open to let the heat out. Should she go in?

Valmont's grandfather saw her and waved her inside, spouting something in Italian. The only word she understood was "Valmont."

The door to the dining room swung open and Valmont strode in. Just seeing him made her feel better. When he looked up and grinned, her stress melted away. His single dimple was like therapy. The hug he pulled her into felt heavenly. He smelled like Italian spices.

"Come with me. I want to show you something." He grabbed her hand like it was the most normal thing in the world and led her through a door at the back of the kitchen and up a flight of narrow wooden stairs.

"Where are we going?"

"My secret sanctuary." At the top of the stairs, Valmont produced a key from his s.h.i.+rt pocket and unlocked the door before gesturing for Bryn to go in. "Ladies first."

A strange sense of dej vu came over her. Jaxon had said those same words outside the baby clothing store, but hadn't meant them. Jerk. Valmont meant it.

The polished oak floors and walls of the attic room gleamed in the light. A marble-topped table sat in the middle of the room. The matching chairs were black cast-iron with gray cus.h.i.+ons. She blinked. It was patio furniture.

A glider swing sat in the far corner of the room with matching chairs. Colorful pots of roses and other flowers were scattered around the room on small tables or lined up against the baseboards. Their sweet scents permeated the room. "It's a garden. How's that possible?"

"Look up," Valmont said.

The roof was punctuated with rows of windows. There were so many, and so evenly s.p.a.ced, the ceiling resembled a checkerboard made of light and dark squares.

"I love it."

"My grandmother loves to garden, so my grandfather built this room as a wedding gift so she would always have a garden no matter the season."

"It's beautiful."

"Why don't you pick a chair, and I'll go fix us a couple of cappuccinos."

"Sounds good." She wandered the room smelling different flowers. Several roses were in full bloom, and half a dozen buds appeared ready to burst. She touched a red rose, channeling a bit of Quintessence into the soil. The buds burst open and their fragrance filled the air.

Maybe she could become a florist or a gardener. Beautiful flowers made people happy. If she was a florist or a gardener, she could move back to the human world and leave this entire mess behind. But then she wouldn't be able to fly whenever she wanted or become a medic. d.a.m.n her grandmother for putting those thoughts into her head.

The sound of Valmont's footsteps on the stairs kept her from trying her skills on another plant. He entered the room carrying a small tray with two steaming cups of cappuccino, sugar, and cream.

She inhaled the rich coffee scent. "That smells fabulous."

Once they were seated at the table, he seemed content to drink his coffee in silence. After a few minutes, she couldn't take the quiet. "What does your family do for Christmas?"

"I have a sister and an older brother who are married. Between them they have three boys and two girls. Christmas Eve, my parents, siblings, and all the a.s.sorted nieces and nephews squeeze into my grandparents' house, eat until we're about to burst, and then have a ping-pong tournament."

"Ping-pong?"

He grinned. "My grandmother is the undefeated champion."

"That sounds nice."

"What does your family do?"

"Normally, my parents and I string popcorn to decorate the tree, bake cookies, and play board games. This year, I'm trying to make nice with my grandmother, so I'm going to her house."

Valmont cringed. "Sorry to hear that."

She laughed. "It's funny. If you'd asked me six months ago if I wanted to wear a gown and attend a Christmas Eve ball, I would've jumped at the chance. Now all I want to do is go home."

"You could come play ping-pong with us. I guarantee the food and the company will be better."