She was in the kitchen, loading dishes into the dishwasher. Her bright, platinum-blonde hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and a dish rag hung from her shoulder.
“Hey. Want dessert first or dinner?” I asked, holding the bag up.
Delphine rolled her eyes and tossed the rag down. “You and that damn cheesecake. Don’t you get tired of the same flavor?”
“No, it’s too good,” I said. “I feel like I’ll be missing out if I try something else and it isn’t as good.”
“Screw it,” Delphine said. “Let’s have dessert first.”
While I took the cheesecake out of the box, Delphine pulled out a knife, forks and a couple small plates.
“Here,” she said, sliding the cake toward her. “Let me do this. You’ll make a mess of it.”
“I can cut it,” I argued.
She gave me a terse look before going to work on the dessert. She’d been my nanny when I left home, but her duties had ended when I turned eighteen. She’d chosen to stay with me as a companion. A friend. I didn’t know how to thank her for that. I had no one else. I’d even forced her to continue taking a salary out of my monthly stipend. She’d argued about that at first, but in the end I’d won.
“How was your day?” Delphine asked, sliding a plate toward me.
I sighed and sliced off a bite-sized piece of cheesecake with my fork. “It was fine, other than getting hit on by a douchebag right before I came home.”
“What kind of douchebag
?” she asked, her face crinkling with distaste at the word.
Delphine was in her early fifties, but with shifters aging slower, she looked more in her early thirties. Her youthful looks didn’t change the fact that she had some more old-fashioned ideals, though. She wasn’t a huge fan of vulgarity.
“Some pretty boy business guy. You know the type. They spend more money on haircuts and skincare than most women do. Total prick.”
She frowned at my use of the word ‘prick’ but instead of saying anything took a bite.
Delphine was uncharacteristically quiet for a few minutes as we ate, then asked a few more cursory questions about my day. I frowned. Something was off. She was being weird.
“Okay,” I said, putting my fork down and crossing my arms over my chest. “What’s up?”
“Hmm?” she grunted, glancing up at me guiltily. “What do you mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean. Tell me whatever it is that’s running around in your head.”
Delphine put the fork down and slid her plate away. “All right.” She sighed. “It’s about your youngest brother Frederique.”
“Freddy?” I asked, sitting forward. “What’s wrong? Is he okay?”
“He’s…uh…well, he just got engaged,” Delphine said.
I relaxed. “Oh. That’s exciting.”
It was the only response I could give. I missed Freddy terribly. I’d only seen him a couple of times since my banishment to human life years ago. He and my little sister Sophia, were the polar opposite of Bastien. He’d been jealous of me being the rightful heir to the family. When I was banished, he’d been giddy. As much as I hated him, I missed the other two terribly.
Hearing that Freddy was getting married made my head spin. In my head, he was still the little snot-nosed kid who had hugged me for dear life on the day I’d left. A deep and unrelenting ache filled my chest thinking of him. He and Sophia had been my best friends. The ache deepened. I hadn’t seen Sophia even once in all these years. Truthfully, that was the most gut-wrenching part of being sent away. Sure, there were others missed-others who had been kind to me like my aunt Collette-but it had broken my heart to leave Freddy and Sophia behind.
Delphine walked to the letter desk we kept by the door and pulled an envelope out of the drawer. Even from a distance I could see the red wax seal. My family crest.
“You received a letter from your family. Delivered by a Laurent family courier. He was the one who told me what was going on.”
Delphine handed the letter over. From the look on her face, I couldn’t help but assume she thought it was an invitation to the wedding. She had a hopeful glimmer in her eye as she watched me turn the envelope over in my hands.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” I said.
She clutched her hands together at her chest, twisting her fingers together anxiously. “It could be an invitation. You don’t know it’s not, Elle.”
“One way to find out.” I snapped the wax seal in half and slipped the thick vellum paper out.
Dearest Brielle,
Ihope this letter finds you well. We really must converse more often. I do miss the little chats we used to have. In light of the fact that I’ve apparently neglected to send you a Christmas gift the last several years, I want to make that up to you. I want you to enjoy a relaxing vacation at our ocean-front villa in one of our vacation homes in Costa Rica. Since I’m sure that little job you have at that quaint sewing shop won’t mind you leaving for a restful week last minute, I went ahead and booked you. See the dates below. A confirmation for your plane ticket will arrive via email next week.
Best,
Mom.
Isnorted a bitter laugh.
Our little chats
? My mother and I hadn’t chatted since I hit puberty. Her and Dad both sort of turned their backs on me. Bullshit.
Best
? She couldn’t even write the word love. This was more like a business email than a note from mother to daughter. I glanced down at the dates, then looked up at Delphine.
“Did that courier tell you when Freddy was getting married?”
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