Page 8 of House of Roots and Ruin
And another.
And still she did not come.
I sat in the booth, unable to leave, unable to stop my short grasping gasps for air.
What had I done?
I’d wanted her to see me as I truly was now. Her sister, grown up and ready for the responsibilities of adulthood. Ready to fly from the nest. Ready to make decisions for myself. I wasn’t a little girl any longer.
I hadn’t guessed she’d react like that.
Against all odds, my stomach let out a loud gurgle. I dared to look over at the customers. A few people quickly glanced away—theyhadbeen staring—but some offered sympathetic smiles.
Another barmaid, different from the woman who had served us, came over, her steps tentative as if she wasn’t sure her presence would be welcomed. Her skin was a dark copper and her black hair was cut short beneath her mob cap.
“Are you unwell, Miss Thaumas?”
“Oh, no, I’m fine. Just fine,” I said, trying to believe it was true. Every minute that passed without Camille’s return increased the dread building in my chest.
“You’re crying,” she observed, and pushed Camille’s unused napkin toward me.
I snatched it up, patting at my eyes. “I hadn’t even noticed.”
“Sisters can be difficult, can’t they?” she guessed, her eyes darting toward the door as though Camille had suddenly stormed back in.
She hadn’t.
“They can be,” I agreed.
“I have three,” she said, ducking into the booth, sitting in Camille’s spot. “All older. It’s hard being the baby of the family.”
“It really is.” Despite my misery, I smiled at her. “I’m Verity.”
She took my extended hand, shaking it with her cold, calloused ones. “Miriam.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Miriam. Thank you for coming over. I…I’m not exactly sure what I ought to be doing and everyone was staring so.”
“Not everyone,” she said, tucking a lock of dark hair behind her ear. “There’s that gentleman over there, seated with the lady in green. She’s been giving him an earful about some new hat she saw in the shops and I don’t think he even heard your sister leave.”
A bit of laughter burst from me. “Well, that’s very good to know. And here I was, worried we’d caused a scandal.”
“Oh no, miss,” she said, her face drawn with mock gravity. “If you want to know a true scandal, look at that couple sitting over there—the man who has the big gold ring…and the lady whose fingers are decidedly bare.”
I studied the pair she spoke of. They were leaning in toward each other, whispering and looking as if they were the only two people left in the world. “What’s so shocking about that?”
Miriam’s blue eyes twinkled; her smile was sly. “See that woman over near the bar, in the purple dress?”
I spotted her, studying the couple with barely concealed wrath. I ate more of the chowder, expecting something to happen.
“That’s the gentleman’s sister-in-law. He’s not yet spotted her, but it’s obvious she has him.”
“Scandal indeed.”
“Feeling better?” she asked, gesturing to the half-empty bowl.
“I am,” I admitted. “I still don’t know what to do, but—”
“Verity.”
