Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 93482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93482 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 374(@250wpm)___ 312(@300wpm)
“Yes, well. Now that you are back in town, maybe we should get the families together. It seems like between Harrison and Amelia getting married, I rarely see all of my children and I see no reason not to make it a whole family event.”
“That sounds wonderful,” I said. “My father did mention that he wanted the entire family together soon to give his new bride a proper introduction to his closest friends. I have to say I don’t think I have ever seen that man more smitten in his life. Actually, I don’t think I’d ever seen him smile before he married Stella. Now the man is all smiles.”
“I hear love can do that to a man,” Mr. Astrid said, giving another subtle dig. Between that, the way people were staring and my reminding Mary Quinn of my new, very young stepmother, she was practically fuming in silence.
“Let me know when you would like to get together. I would absolutely love to help set this up.” I smiled, genuinely enjoying this exchange. “Before you go, do you mind if I borrow Rose for just a moment? I need to ask her a few things about the bazaar.”
“Of course,” he said. “That’ll actually give me a moment to catch up with a few of my friends here.”
With that I led Rose off to the side where we wouldn’t be overheard, and I watched Mr. Astrid turn and leave his wife without a second word.
It looked like my plan was working better than I thought it would.
Victory felt so good. I pushed it down. Not yet. She could still come back from this and I would not celebrate before the final blow.
“What do you want now?” Rose bit out under her breath.
“Are you talking back to me, little angel? Careful, I’m going to think you like the punishments. Is that what you’re doing? Baiting me for more?”
Her cheeks burned again, and I pushed back the smile in case someone looked over and read something into this conversation.
“I just wanted to tell you I am very proud of you for the way you took your penance earlier. I understand it was not a straightforward thing to do without complaint, but you were so good, you deserve a reward for your behavior. I just wanted to make sure you knew that your… trials have not gone unnoticed. I am sure that there are blessings in your future.”
Her eyes widened as she took in my meaning, and then her eyes went back to the ground as another blush colored her face.
CHAPTER 23
ROSE
After church, Mother was in a state. The entire way home, she ranted and raved while Dad and I each looked out our own window and stared at the world passing by.
When we got home, I ran upstairs to shower and change and remove the candle. I couldn’t just throw it away. If a maid or the butler saw it, they would tell Mother and then there would be endless questions about why I had a church candle. Instead, I cleaned it and quickly stored it under my sink in the very back.
That would have to be good enough.
I could hear Mother screaming at the staff, swearing, blaming people, and I knew I did not want to be here. If she saw me, if she got it in her head again that this was all my fault, then there would be no saving me.
Father Manwarring would want me to turn to him. I considered it for a moment, then I pushed up the sleeve of my blouse and saw the bite marks I had left on my arm. They were just bruises, and would fade in a day or two, but they were reminders of the cost that could come with seeking Father Manwarring’s aid.
Instead, I grabbed my phone and ordered a car, knowing exactly who I wanted to turn to.
Despite it being Sunday, I knew Amelia would not be at home, or at the church. She was going to be where she spent every spare second of her life. At her art school.
I waved to the security guard Luc insisted be on the property at all times, as I headed up to my sister’s office. Her door was open, and she had her phone pressed to her ear, laughing and talking about some summer program they were planning. An art camp, with tuition for those who could afford it, and a set number of scholarships available for those who couldn’t.
She was discussing the specifics of the classes the program would offer. Ceramics, oil paint, sculpture, photography and, of course, watercolor. She was gushing about how amazing it would be to wake the kids up just before dawn to paint the sunrise over the lake, and then, on the same day, have them paint the sunset and compare how the light was different.