Emma
"Nope," I declared as I stared up at the wall of windows looming before us as Tom helped me out of the car. "Still not used to it."
"Maybe next time," Tom teased as he swiftly placed a kiss in my hair before closing the car door shut.
"And still could go for a stiff Guinness right about now," I muttered as he entwined his fingers with mine.
"It's been near on three weeks since The Reckoning. You have nothing to worry about, Ems."
'The Reckoning' was our code for the morning after our attending the Prime Minister's dinner party.
"If that were really the case," I contended as I struggled in my heels to keep up with his quick pace on the gravel drive. "Then why am I still constantly under chaperone supervision, hm?"
As Tom predicted, Cynthia had reworked the quote from my interview to become the foundation's unofficial tagline and in doing so made me the foundation's unofficial mascot.
"You're hot with millennials and they're the future donors that will decide whether Legacy Works has a legacy of its own," she had stated matter-of-factly as she typed away on her BlackBerry. "Besides, who doesn't love a power couple?"
Tom's only response had been to quip that I would need to call Trisha to let her know I'd be needing quite a few new outfits. Ignoring his snark, Cynthia agreed wholeheartedly. I didn't fight it, but rather to make matters easier, simply handed Cynthia one of Trisha's newly printed business cards.
Over the next three weeks, Cynthia had me booked for nearly every hour of the day. She would have booked me for more events if I hadn't insisted Tom and I share one meal together each day.
My only other request was that I still have time to visit with Alice. As it were, I found time to stop by and see her nearly every other day if not every day.
Sometimes we worked on our story, sometimes we chatted, and sometimes we said nothing at all. Alice was by far the strongest young woman I had ever met, but she was still fighting a tough diagnosis with wicked treatments. Naturally, some days were better for her than others.
Other than making time for Tom and 'our girl,' as he had started referring to Alice, I'd given up total control of my schedule to Cynthia. Many of the events I attended with Tom, though others I attended with Cynthia or Margaret—or even sometimes Eliza.
While they all managed insane schedules of their own, somehow one of them always found time in their busy diaries to stand by my side at each of the events I was slotted to attend.
"Perhaps they enjoy your company," Tom suggested then with a hint of laughter.
I merely rolled my eyes.
"Last chance," Tom whispered, his hand already on the ornate doorknob.
Cowardly, I hesitated. "You sure they're alright with me coming tonight after all that's happened?"
Tom nodded his assurance. "Uncle Henry may still be out for my blood, but the rest of them will be on their best behavior. It's a birthday celebration after all."
I smiled down at the gift wrapped in colorful robot-patterned paper Tom held in his arms.
"Well if it's for a birthday," I retorted playfully. "Then we better get inside."
Tom grinned eagerly as he pushed the door open. Staring up at the cascading marble staircase before us, I smoothed out the skirt of my dress before taking Tom's hand in mine and stepping over the threshold.
The sitting room was as chaotic as the first time I'd entered it, perhaps more so with Matilda's son, Francis, twirling about like a Tasmanian devil. Gran watched on, amused as ever, as Matilda chased after him rightening pillows and protecting antique porcelain vases.
"It's my birthday!" He exclaimed, nearly taking out his great-grandmother, who simply laughed in response.
Tom's aunt, Rosalyn, quickly appeared by Gran's side to offer her a stiff drink and undoubtedly act as a protective shield from the little boy's energy.
Charlie and Robert, meanwhile, stood by the windows. Charlie theatrically rolling his eyes at something his brother said to him.
Cynthia sat on nearby couches with her parents, though she was clearly giving more attention to her BlackBerry than any conversation that was being had around her.
Margaret floated into the room just then and perched herself across from Gran. Looking up, she noticed Tom's and my arrival and warmly smiled before waving us over.
Tom nodded in greeting but quickly swooped down to catch Francis as he sped past us.
"Looks like I've caught myself a birthday boy!" He roared playfully as he tossed the boy up in the air, much to Francis's delight.
Matilda pulled up short appearing somewhat out of breath. "How wonderful, Uncle Tommy will watch over you now. Mummy needs a drink."
And with that, she unceremoniously marched off in the direction of the drink cart.
"It's my birthday!" Francis squealed as Tom began to tickle him.
I sidestepped the two of them and gave Margaret's shoulder a friendly squeeze as I walked past her.
Lizzie, Francis' little sister, sat quietly on a chair positioned just outside the dining room doors. Her petite little shoes swung softly in the air as she fidgeted with her skirt's many layers of tulle, and her chin was tucked solemnly down into her collar.
I knelt down in front of her and offered a warm smile. "Hello, Lizzie. Do you remember me?"
Her eyes flicked up briefly before returning downward. She nodded.
"Have you wished your brother a happy birthday yet?"
Lizzie hesitated and then somewhat begrudgingly nodded her head again.
"I never had any brothers—or any sisters for that matter," I told her. "But my mum had several. And her mum had a funny little tradition for birthdays. Do you know who she gave presents to?"
Lizzie sighed despondently before answering glumly: "The birthday boy."
"And the birthday siblings," I grinned.
Her head shot up at that and soon her smile matched mine.
"See, my mum's mummy thought it was important every child felt special and loved. Wouldn't you agree?"
Lizzie nodded eagerly as she watched me fish out an unopened packet of sparkling stickers from my purse.
"Here," I whispered as I undid the wrapping and handed her the stickers. "Your uncle told me you liked butterflies."
"I do!" she exclaimed, her legs kicking out in excitement as she took the sheet covered in shimmering butterflies and flowers. She bit her bottom lip as she selected a sticker and hesitantly stuck it on the tip of her nose.
I beamed at the sound of Lizzie's giggling.
"Looks lovely," I told her.
She giggled some more and then selected another sticker. This time she hesitated and then leaned forward to gingerly place it on my cheek.
Before I could thank her, something behind me caught Lizzie's attention. "Look, Grandmamma! I have stickers!"
I peered over my shoulder and, sure enough, Eliza stood not two meters away watching us.
Apparently, I need a chaperone for private events as well, I thought as I stood and smiled at her politely.
Eliza blinked at me and then turned toward in granddaughter smiling. "You surely do! You know who else loves butterfly stickers?"
Lizzie shook her head enthusiastically.
Eliza wiggled her eyebrows mischievously. "Your grandfather!"
With a squeal, Lizzie jumped from her seat and ran off in search of the unsuspecting man. I had a feeling Tom's father did not have an equal affinity for sparkly butterflies, though I was sure his affinity for his granddaughter would more than makeup for it.
I cleared my throat as I closed my purse and hugged it to my middle. "Hello, Eliza. I... I wasn't sure I should—well I wasn't sure I was still welcome," I admitted. "But Tom insisted so... I can leave if you like."
Eliza's smile softened at my words. "Nonsense. You are a part of this family, more than you know."
For a moment I thought I caught a look of regret in her expression, but, in a blink, it was gone and I convinced myself it was my own pessimism clouding my judgment.
"Besides," Eliza said with a brief nod toward her smiling granddaughter covering her husband's previously cleanly pressed suit with stickers. "You clearly have quite the talent for making my family happy."
My cheeks tightened in a wide smile. "Thank you, Eliza. That... means a lot. I, uh, didn't have a lot of family growing up, and now it's just Mum and I so coming here is really..."
I blushed at my sudden well of emotion and forcefully blinked away my brewing tears. "Well, it's really kind of you to have me."
Eliza took my hand in hers and gave it a brief squeeze in understanding. "Go sit with Tommy, and I'll fix you both a drink."
I nodded gratefully and sat in the empty space beside Tom. Having been released from Tasmanian-duty, he sat across from his father and watched on in amusement as he became practically enveloped in a cocoon of sparkly stickers.
"I suppose I have you to thank for this?" He nodded toward me before being instructed by Lizzie to stay still.
"Who me?" I joked as I touched my stickered cheek in faux innocence.
"That would be my doing," Eliza smirked as she handed Tom and I each a tumbler. "I informed Lizzie of your love of butterfly stickers and she was so generous as to share them with you. Isn't that right, sweetheart?"
Lizzie nodded eagerly before placing one on her grandmother's bony hand.
"Thank you, dear," Eliza smiled before turning to face Tom and I on the couch. "So, Emma, what are you planning to wear to the gala? It may seem far away now, but with the schedule Cynthia has planned out for you I'm sure those weeks will seem to fly right by."
"I suppose whatever Trisha picks out for me," I said simply until I noticed Eliza's expectant stare. I shifted in my seat. "Uh, I think it's black?"
Eliza smiled politely and turned her attention to Cynthia, who had suddenly appeared by the side of the couch. "We should see to arranging Emma a real stylist."
"Trisha is a real stylist," I cut in.
"One with references," Eliza amended somewhat patronizingly.
I felt my temper begin to flare in my friend's defense. "She—"
Tom placed a reassuring hand on my knee. "Trisha has been doing an excellent job working with Emma. I'm sure whatever she has Emma wear to the gala will be beautiful."
He gave my knee a gentle squeeze and added quietly just for my ears: "You always look beautiful, love."
I smiled at him gratefully before turning back to Eliza.
"You don't have to worry about any more wedding gowns," I reassured her. "I already spoke with Trisha. Promise."
She merely nodded, and I blushed at the sound of Gran tsk-ing at me in disapproval from the other side of the room.
Charlie laughed from behind us. "First mistake, Emma. You said the "w" word."
"Walrus?" Francis suggested excitedly.
Tom easily swooped the boy up into his lap. "Yes! Emma promised your Grandmamma no more walrus dresses."
Francis cackled at that.
"A walrus dress!" He repeated. "Uncle Tommy you're so silly."
"He is at that," chuckled a dark-haired man as he came by and ruffled Francis' hair.
I rescued Tom's glass from his hand barely in time before he and his nephew began to wrestle right there on the couch. I stood to move out of kicking range and searched for a safer place for our glasses. Noting an empty tray beneath the drink cart, I headed towards it.
Of course, right before I could reach it a tuxedoed servant came and elegantly plucked the glasses from my hands.
I turned and was startled to find the dark-haired man standing directly behind me. I'd never seen him at any of the family events before, and he certainly didn't appear to share any of the physical traits Tom and Charlie did.
A wily grin spread across his lips as he undoubtedly recognized my confusion. "You must be Emma. I'm André."
He amiably held out his hand for me to shake.
"Matilda's husband," I nodded slowly as I gave him my hand. He turned it and briefly grazed his lips against my knuckles. I couldn't help but snatch my hand back.
Still, I forced a polite smile. He was family after all. "It's a pleasure to meet you, André."
"And I you. I've heard quite a lot about the girlfriend allowed at family dinner," he teased as if we had known each other for much longer than thirty seconds. "I must say, I can't decide if you're incredibly lucky or downright cursed."
I blinked in confusion. "To be accepted into this family? I'd say you and I are both incredibly lucky."
His smile held an air of condescension. "Just you wait, love. Just you wait."
* * *
Dinner that evening was a lively affair. Tom wasn't kidding when he said his family took birthdays seriously. Whatever seating arrangement was normally in place was completely forgotten. King Henry—when he finally deigned to appear at the table—took his typical seat at the head, but everyone else found a new place to sit.
Francis was given his great-grandmother's place at the foot of the table, with Gran and his mother sitting on either side of him. Lizzie sat between her grandparents. Tom seemed to serve as a sort of barrier between his father and André, and André for his part a barrier between Tom and his uncle. Robert took up his usual seat beside his father and Margaret beside him, though she insisted I sit next to her.
I couldn't help but feel honored, almost as if I was suddenly back in primary again and the cool girl was granting me her approval. Cynthia, the ultimate cool girl, took the seat to my right and Charlie the last seat beside her.
The meal itself was fabulously juvenile with cheese on toast, chips, and ice cream Sundays for dessert.
"It's just unfair," Matilda complained as she tried to sneak a vegetable onto her son's plate. "We can't go anywhere without those vultures following us. I mean what am I to do, have my children walk around with blankets covering their heads?"
"You could let them wear their Halloween costumes out," Charlie shrugged.
"My grandchildren are not going out in public donning masks and costumes," Eliza stated resolutely.
Charlie merely shrugged again.
"You could take them somewhere the press won't expect to find them," Margaret suggested.
Matilda sighed as Francis speared the brussel sprout and attempted to fling it at his father. Without even looking Charlie swatted it out of the air and it landed in the bowl of pudding with a messy slap.
"I've tried that, but anywhere we go they're right there!"
"You could try Emma's old shop."
I sat up at Tom's suggestion and attempted to catch his eye, but he suddenly took an interest in the ice floating in his water glass...
Matilda frowned as Margaret turned to look at me inquisitively. "I didn't know you owned a shop."
"I didn't—I don't," I said glancing over at her. "I only worked there. It's a bookshop."
"Is that how you got your start doing book reviews?"
I blushed at the sudden attention. "Eh, no—perhaps. It's a lovely shop," I said in Matilda's direction hoping to refocus the conversation. "It's got a great children's section, and Peter—the proprietor—is wonderful with kids. And I can assure you, no one outside of the neighborhood even knows it exists."
Matilda shot a dubious look at Cynthia, who immediately shifted in her seat.
"Sounds lovely, but I don't think I've left you much time in your schedule for—"
"You left time in the morning for Tom and I to have an early lunch," I argued, suddenly feeling rather defensive of Peter's shop. I turned toward Tom, hoping he saw the determination in my eyes. "You wouldn't mind, would you love?"
Seeing it, he grinned. "Not at all. I've got some work to catch up on anyhow."
"Then it's settled then," I shrugged happily before grinning across the table at Lizzie. "How does an adventure to a magic bookshop with lots of books on butterflies and fairies sound?"
A toothy grin lit up her face as she nodded her head enthusiastically.
I turned my grin toward Francis for good measure. "And robots, of course."
"Yes!" he exclaimed tossing a chip into the air. "Robots!"
This time, Charlie caught the projectile and popped it into his mouth.
Matilda smiled stiffly. "Lovely... what time shall we meet you?"
[A/N: Thank you for reading! Enjoying this story? If so, please remember to VOTE, COMMENT, & SHARE ❤️❤️❤️
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