Page 52 of Henhouse
“It will be more authentic!” Louisa chirped.
“Authentic to what?” Ellen’s gaze shot to Hope who shrugged her shoulders. It was the first she’d heard of it.
“Imagine it. You’re in here dancing and flirting and twirling, but you need a breath of fresh air, so you go outside to the garden and patio for a quiet moment alone when you’re followed by the brooding gent who’s been sipping his whiskey on the outskirts of the dance floor all night. You look into each other’s eyes and kiss beneath the starlight.” Her eyes were aglow beneath her chocolate-brown fringe of bangs.
“You can’t promise starlight. Could be overcast,” Ellen mused unhelpfully.
“I can promise twinkle lights! Strung over the whole patio,” Louisa snapped.
Hope wasn’t sure how much more bickering she could take. Bug agreed with a swift kick. She handed the tape measure back to Louisa who was lost to her battle with Ellen. “Lou, you don’t even have a date.”
“Where in that scenario did I say it was a date that followed youout?”
“You’re getting worked up.”
“You’re being difficult for no reason.”
“You’ve overturned the entire house!”
Hope slipped out of the great room toward the foyer. She hesitated at the hobby room doors, peering inside. The space was vacant and her favorite plush chair by the window bathed in sunlight. She ducked into the room, pulling the glass doors shut behind her, dulling the sounds of Louisa and Ellen’s debate. Hope snuggled into the chair, cracked open her book, and sighed.
She was only three pages in before her thoughts distracted her. Wonderings of Brayden’s whereabouts, what he was thinking about the baby, whether he would ever take her back circled her like vultures. She had to see him, had to get more answers. She had to know if she’d lost him forever.
“That morning before we met, I inspected a facility that is home to a lot of confidential dealings. I had to have a special background check before I even went in. When I got there, two guys dressed in all black with guns holstered on their hips escorted me to all of my stops. In some wings, they’d make me look at my feet, lead me into a pitch-black room, and guide me to the extinguishers and AED machines. They’d turn the light on but stand right behind me to make sure I only looked at what I was inspecting. When I finished, they’d turn the light off, instruct me to look at my feet, and guide me back out. I swear they had to have night vision contacts or something because I couldn’t see my own nose in there.”
Effie laughed from where she lay on Theo’s bed and his heart warmed. “No wonder you were so surly that day. Who knew a career in safety could be so covert?”
“Not me.” Theo breathed a contented sigh. It felt comfortable laying in bed together. It felt even better that it was at her suggestion when she’d learned he kept all his old yearbooks in his room. She’d thoroughly enjoyed finding photos of him on stage for theater productions and comparing his braced baby face to the man before her. Under normal circumstances, he would have hidden away his awkward phase, but he enjoyed letting Effie see his whole evolution. “Did you really like the song or were you pacifying me?”
Effie huffed. “Trust me, I wouldn’t be able to hide my hatred. ‘Invisible String’ is a great song and only improves my opinion of your queen.”
“It makes me think of you now,” he said. It was true. Something cosmic was at work bringing him and Effie closer.
“That makes it even better.”
He played with her fingers that were intertwined with his. She rested beside him, her head at the foot of the bed while Theo leaned against the pillows at his headboard. Her knees were tucked, so her bare feet could shelter beneath his thigh to keep warm. With their arms stretched, their fingers barely touched. “You’re too far away,” he said, trying his best not to whine, despite the need for her to be nearer.
Effie rolled her eyes before crawling onto her knees beside him, then scooting into his waiting arm and leaning into his shoulder.
“So,” Theo said, not sure how to test the waters without diving full in. He’d had a question on his mind ever since that first craft night. “What does Effie taste like to you?”
Effie sucked in a breath, before letting it loose. “Farro,” she whispered. Theo couldn’t understand the disappointment that clung to the word. He rested his chin on her head. “Care to explain why that’s so frustrating?”
Effie squirmed a little before she continued. “Most of my deepest associations with words were formed when I was little with a very limited palate. And as I got older I realized that a person’s name is usually a base note, but once I get to know them better it gets more layered. Brayden, for example tastes like butter. But as I’ve gotten to know him more there’s hints of citrus and dill—bright flavors.”
“Okay?” Theo wondered how salted chocolate caramels would evolve as they grew closer, but he didn’t ask.
“My mom has made farro my whole life—early association. But it was bland.”
“I think farro is a superior grain—nutty, elevated.”
“Sure, but bland on its own.”
Theo traced circles on her back where his hand rested. She nuzzled farther into his shoulder. He waited for her to say more, but her lips were zippered. “You’re not bland, Effie.”
“You sound like my therapist,” she huffed.
“What else does your therapist say about it?” Curiosity baited him, but he treaded carefully. He hadn’t realized that asking about her name was such a minefield, and he didn’t want to send her running.
