Page 18 of The Formation of Us
“Can I see ‘em?”
“If it’s all right with your mother.”
“We’ll talk about it later, honey.” Faith put her hand on Cora’s tiny shoulder, her silent way of telling the child to hush, that she was being ill-mannered or inappropriate.
Tansy opened a jar on the counter. “I have something that will make your hands as soft as a baby’s behind,” she said, scooping cream onto her fingers, then slathering it on Evelyn’s hand. “It’s honey, lanolin, almond oil, and wax.”
“It smells wonderful,” Evelyn said.
“It is, dahlin’, now sit down and let me do this properly” Like an obedient child, Evelyn sat on the pail. “We mix mint and lavender in to make it smell good.”
“It’s lovely” Evelyn glanced at her sister-in-law. “You don’t know what you’re missing, Claire.”
The other woman shook her head. “My aching feet are jealous.”
“Not for long.” Dahlia slid a pail behind Claire. “That cream will soften your feet and soothe the ache, too.”
Claire gasped and laughed in the same breath. “I was teasing.”
Dahlia dipped her fingers into the jar and scooped out a dollop of cream. She gestured for Claire to sit. “Let me show you how to apply it, so you can teach your husband how to pleasure you.”
Claire laughed. “Believe me, my husband knows all about that.”
Faith’s aunts all grinned like the four lusty prostitutes they were, and Nancy glanced at her daughter-in-law. “The only pleasure I get comes from a hot stove or holding my grandchildren. It’s been ages since anything has felt good enough to make me moan, so sit on that pail and let this lovely woman rub your feet while I enjoy myself for a spell.”
Cora patted Faith’s leg. “Why does she want to moan, Mama?”
Heat burned up Faith’s neck, and Nancy ducked her head.
With a hoot of laughter, Claire sat on the pail, hiked her dress to her knees, and stuck out her foot. “Cora, do you know how to unlace shoes?”
“Mama showed me how,” the child said, and joyfully helped remove Claire’s shoes and stockings.
Dahlia slathered cream over Claire’s slender foot and began kneading her toes. Cora sat knees-bent, heels-out on the floor beside Dahlia, rubbing Claire’s other foot.
Nancy hunched her back. “Iris, you must come live with me,” she said.
Warm laughter filled the greenhouse, and Faith let herself relax for the first time since moving to Fredonia. Maybe her aunts weren’t too outrageous. Their naughty sense of humor had won over the Grayson women. And maybe Nancy, Evelyn, and Claire would tell their friends about her business.
Maybe everything would work out after all.
“You all look so different,” Evelyn said, eyeing Faith’s aunts. “It’s hard to believe you’re sisters.”
Faith’s stomach plummeted.
“It’s a remarkable story,” Dahlia said, calmly reaching over to guide Cora’s hand. “Slide your thumbs around her ankle bone like this.” After she demonstrated, the woman lifted an amazingly serene face to Evelyn. “We all share the same father.”
Faith scoured her mind for a way to change the subject, wishing they’d taken time to think this through and invent a new history for themselves.
“Our father was a big, handsome, American-born German,” Dahlia said in the mystical sounding voice she used when telling a tale to Cora. “There wasn’t a woman alive who could resis—”
“Aunt Dahlia, the ladies can’t possibly be interested in . . . all that. It’s a painfully long history,” Faith said, doing her best to dissuade them from pursuing the topic. “Dahlia could waste half a day trying to explain it all.”
Nancy fairly purred as she closed her eyes. “Take all the time you like, Miss Wilde.”
Dahlia’s lips twitched. “As I was saying, we share the same father, but—”
“The sheriff’s here!” Cora leapt to her feet and ran to greet him.
