House of Salt and Sorrows(24)
But the most spectacular sight was the stained-glass wall. It had been covered for years in black curtains, as if its mere presence stirred more joy than was proper in a house of mourning. Squares of blue and green glass gave way to teal and aqua higher up, with a frosting of white at the top, transforming one wall of the ballroom into a veritable tsunami. The light from dozens of tall braziers on the patio illuminated the wall like a brilliant jewel, casting cerulean and beryl highlights across the guests.
I caught sight of the Graces running through the crowds, chasing Aunt Lysbette’s tiny toy poodle and giggling with mad glee.
Camille leaned in, whispering under her breath, “Those were the last guests, thank Pontus. I’m starving.”
“Do you remember any of these people’s names?” I asked as we headed in.
“Besides the relatives? Just that one.” She nodded discreetly to Robin Briord. He was standing in a group of young men looking up at the chandelier. Camille’s cheeks flushed with a look of hunger that had nothing to do with our impending dinner. “When should I go talk with him?”
Someone tapped on our shoulders. “No big, fancy greetings for me, then?”
Turning, I couldn’t help my squeal of delight. “Fisher! Is that really you?”
The years of working on Hesperus had changed him. He’d grown taller and filled out, becoming a man, with laugh lines framing warm and familiar brown eyes. When he folded me into a brotherly embrace, I felt the power behind all his new muscles.
“I didn’t know you were coming!” said Camille. “Annaleigh, did you?”
“Hanna mentioned it this morning, but I forgot to tell you.”
She raised one playful eyebrow at me. As girls, we’d both been madly in love with Fisher, trailing after him with all the eagerness of the desperately unrequited. It was the only thing we’d ever truly squabbled over.
“Seems an awfully big thing to forget. I’m sure it was unintentional.” Her tone was teasing, but an edge darkened her words. “How long are you here for?” she asked, turning her attention to Fisher. “It’s been so long since we’ve seen you. Hanna must be thrilled you’re home.”
He nodded. “Your father asked me to stay on till Churning. He wanted to make sure I was at the big First Night dinner.”
First Night, only weeks away, was the start of the Churning Festival, celebrating the change of the seasons as Pontus stirred the oceans with his trident. The cold water from below mixed with the cold air above. With fish diving deeper to spend the winter in a state of semihibernation, the villagers used this time to repair their boats, mend their nets, and spend time with their families. The festival lasted for ten days and grew progressively wilder as it wore on. Families of Papa’s finest captains were invited to welcome in the turning of the sea with a feast at Highmoor. Even in the midst of our deepest mourning, it was the one celebration we always observed.
Camille beamed. “Wonderful. I can’t wait to hear about all your adventures at Old Maude. But first I’m on a mission of my own.” She strode away, cutting a roundabout sweep toward Briord, her eyes focused on his every movement.
Fisher took my hand, spinning me around. “You look awfully pretty tonight, little Minnow. So very grown up. Save me a spot on your dance card? Or is it already too full? Mother always said I took too long to get in motion.”
I opened my pretty paper fan, holding it out to him. It doubled as a dance card, though the spokes were surprisingly empty. Uncle Wilhelm, after much prodding from Aunt Lysbette, had asked to have my first two-step, and a distant cousin had requested to lead me in a fox-trot. I assumed once dinner was over, it would fill up. I was a sister of the guests of honor, after all.
“Lucky me,” Fisher said, looking over the blank spaces. “May I be so bold as to request a waltz?” He scrawled in his name with a flourish.
“Take them all,” I said, only half joking. My sisters and I were all schooled in the art of dancing—Berta had us waltz about the drawing room, with Camille always making me lead—but I had no aptitude for witty banter or delicate flirtations. The prospect of an evening of forced small talk made me break into a sheen of sweat.
He studied the card before selecting a polka. “I’m afraid that’s all I can offer, Minnow. I’ve already promised dances to Honor and the triplets.”
“Well, it is their birthday,” I allowed with a smile. “No one has called me that in years.”
“I’d warrant you’re far too grand a lady these days to strip to your skivvies and go swimming in tide pools.” After a beat, his eyes sobered. “I was truly sorry to hear about Eulalie…. I wanted to come to the funeral, but there was that storm. Silas didn’t want to be caught alone.”
I nodded. It would be nice to have someone to remember Eulalie with, but not tonight.
“Where have they put you at dinner?” I asked, diverting the conversation back to something cheerful and meaningless.
“I haven’t had a chance to scour the place cards yet.”
Setting my hand on his elbow, I guided us deeper into the hall. “Shall we take a look?”
* * *
Mercy flopped into the chair next to mine, breathing deeply. Her curls, pinned at the sides with silver roses, wilted. Though she tried to hide it, I caught her yawning behind her hand.