Page 93 of Sweetling
It was then Molly noticed that Merry—all the girls, actually—wore aprons, some of them Molly’s own old ones.
Merry threw her skinny arms around her, and while she hugged her tight, Molly’s temper sparked in her chest.
What was going on?
Oona pulled at her velvet skirts. “This isnice,” she marveled.
“It’s too nice,” noted Nora, drifting over but not embracing Molly. “Where’d you get it?”
Molly didn’t answer, instead looking at all the girls in their aprons. Nora and Oona had their hair tucked behind linen caps, and all of their sleeves and skirts were stained. Rory had a clumsy patch on the elbow of her jacket, and Molly knew Oona wore hand-me-down socks from Merry because she’d darned them herself. Worse, they all seemed…if not quite gaunt, then skinny.
“Are youallworking here?” she murmured. A pit of devastation sucked at the bottom of her stomach.
Nora’s cheeks flamed, but she covered it with a scoff and roll of her eyes.
“Papa needed the help,” said Merry in a little voice.
“Well,” boomed Brom, finally coming out from behind the bar, “let’s see you, then.”
Molly didn’t accept his greeting, neither going to embrace him nor shake his hand. She stood her ground, frowning up at the uncle who’d made her think Allarion was her buyer.
Brom planted his fist on his hip instead, using his other hand to throw a bar cloth over his shoulder and circle his meaty pointer finger through the air. “That fae keeps you looking nice. C’mon then, give us a twirl in your fancy dress.”
She did no such thing. Her cheeks flushed so red, they probably matched her gown, as she took a good look at Brom and the tavern. Her uncle too seemed as though he’d lost some of the roundness to his cheeks. His beard had lost its shape, grown scraggly and wild, and his eyebrows were too long. Stains smirched his tunic, and she could smell the stale sweat on him from steps away.
It was the same bar behind him, the same tables and chairs. Nothing had been fixed or replaced. The tabletops had a greasy shine to them, and crumbs collected in the cracks of the floorboards. The only thing that’d changed was the layer of dust that’d accumulated where Molly had once been sure to clean.
“Whatin all the hellsis going on here?” Molly seethed.
Brom shrugged and waved an arm at the nearly empty tavern. “You know it’s never busy this time of day.”
“No.” Getting in close, she poked a finger into Brom’s soft gut. “Where is thatfuckingmoney?”
Brom’s face flushed red, but he made a show of trying to laugh. “Fates, all the fancy ladies talk like that or are you showin’ them how?”
“Why are the girls in rags?” she hissed.
Nora’s face darkened, and the younger girls looked away in embarrassment.
“Just because you’re fine folk now,” Nora sneered.
“That’s awful poor of you, Moll. You come from here, same as them.”
“Don’t you dare!” she screeched. “Allarion’s money was supposed to take care of the girls! Why are they working here? They should be in school.”
Brom held up his hands, making Molly want to shriek again. He had a way of doing that, of making it seem like she was being the unreasonable one. The sight of his shrug, his feigned helplessness in the face of her supposed tirade, had her seeing red.
If he thoughtthiswas her in a tirade, he’d forgotten—
“Look, Moll, we’re happy to see you, but we’ve got work to do. If you’re going to stay, keep out of the way.”
There were exactly four patrons in the tavern, all of whom were nursing their ales and stew while trying to pretend they weren’t hanging on every word.
Brom lumbered back behind the bar, and Molly pursued him.
“You were supposed to use that money to fix the tavern. To send Merry to academy!”
Her uncle shot her a grumpy look as he began cleaning out a tankard. “Knighthoods are expensive, all right? We got Bryan sponsored—he went off to Gleanná a fortnight ago. I gave him what little was leftover. He’ll need it in the capital.”
