Page 47 of Vistaria Has Fallen
Calli pulled the string off the box—it was the size of a cake box and brown like wrapping paper. She flipped the lid open. Inside sat a pair of Spanish tap shoes and resting on top of them a small, flat, thick blue velvet-covered presentation box. Shesmiled when she saw the shoes and held them up to Minnie. “Guess,” she said.
“Don’t have to,” Minnie said. She took the big cardboard carton from Calli and held it while Calli opened the smaller velvet one.
Inside lay an intricately worked silver belt buckle, made up of delicate filigree threads and adorned with green stones. Emeralds? A card sat tucked behind it. Calli plucked the card outand handed the box to Minnie.
Minnie gasped. “Holy Toledo!” she breathed. She pulled the buckle out and turned it over. “Yes, it is! This is Vistarian silver—see the stamp? These must be emeralds. I know they dig them up in the northern ranges.”
Calli opened the envelope. Inside was a small card.
In my soul, you will always be dancing. Keep it so in yours.
No signature. She didn’t need one.The strong, character-filled flourish on the down strokes was all she needed to know who signed it.
She handed the card to Minnie and leaned against the balcony rail again.
Minnie leaned beside her and swayed against her, a little companionable jostle. “I think you’re in trouble.”
“Me too.” She dropped her head into her hands.
“My warning this morning came too late, didn’t it? You’re alreadyinvolved with him.”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. I think so. Oh god, the risk, Minnie!”
“Isn’t just getting out of bed a risk?”
“Yes, but the odds now…”
“So what?”
Calli looked at her, a little surprised by the fierce tone in her voice.
“A long time ago, when you first met Robert, you said something I’ve never forgotten. I asked you how did youknowRobert was the right one, that he was worthgiving up college for, to support him while he went through medical school. You said—do you remember?”
“No.”
“You said lots of people fear risk, of the price it will ask of them at the end, yet people who lie on their death bed don’t bewail the price of risks they’ve taken. They regret the risks theydidn’ttake, the things they didn’t do because they were afraid. You didn’t want to get to theend of your life and regret what you didn’t do.”
Calli remembered the conversation now. “Instead, I’ve spent five years bewailing the price I paid for that risk.”
“I think you’ve paid enough,” Minnie murmured.
