The Cerulean (The Cerulean Duology #1) - Amy Ewing Page 0,113

don’t even have to believe me. But I’m going to make this right.” He hurried down the steps, pausing halfway and turning back to her. “And next time I come, I’ll bring the necklace.”

As he left the theater, he felt like a different person from the one who had entered it. A change was beginning, but what sort of change he couldn’t say. All he knew was that the life he had imagined for himself was slowly disintegrating, and he found he wasn’t missing it one bit.

32

Agnes

AGNES COULD NOT STOP CHECKING HER PURSE EVERY FEW minutes as she and Ebenezer made their way to the Seaport.

The Granges didn’t have a chauffeur, so he drove them himself, taking a route through Ellsbury Park to avoid the traffic in Central Square and then cutting across the garment district, affectionately nicknamed Vestville.

“It’s not going to run away, you know,” Ebenezer said after the fifth time she opened her purse. “Krogers don’t have legs.”

Agnes gave him a halfhearted smile. “No, I know, I just . . . well, I’ve never carried this much money before.”

“Me neither. Not that I’m carrying it, I mean—I’ve never helped anyone take out that much money before.”

“No? You don’t go from bank to bank helping devious young ladies try to withdraw money from their own accounts regularly? You should, you’re very good at it.”

Ebenezer laughed. “Well, like I said, it’s your money. It’s not as if we stole it.”

“No,” she said, fingering the golden bills. “It’s my mother’s money, technically, since all his money stems from hers. Which makes it even more irritating that I need my father’s permission to take it out.”

“She was, um, Pelagan, wasn’t she?”

Agnes rolled her eyes. “Ebenezer, everyone in Old Port knows my mother was Pelagan. It’s not exactly a secret, though Leo and my father both wish it could be. They sweep her under the rug like she’s an embarrassment.”

“Is that why your father is so obsessed with Pelago?”

“What do you mean, obsessed?”

He glanced at her sideways. “Well, the anti-Talman plays and now that Pelagan tree and fish that he was showing off last night. It’s like he wants to take revenge on Pelago or something.”

“He’s a spiteful man who was forced to let a woman save him from bankruptcy,” Agnes said. “You can bet he wants revenge for that. And she’s dead, so he can’t take it out on her.”

“You don’t think he cared about her?” Ebenezer asked. “Not even a little?”

She gave him a pitying look. “No,” she said. “Not even a little.” She stared out the window at the textile factories flashing past. “And he won’t let us love her either. Well, Leo doesn’t care, like I said, but . . . I wish I could know who she was, what she was like. If there’s anything of her in me.” Her neck went hot and her eyes felt wet. “Sorry,” she said, snapping her purse shut. “This isn’t something I usually talk about.”

“It’s all right,” Ebenezer said, keeping his focus on the road. “And . . . I’m sorry. That doesn’t seem fair at all.”

“Well, life isn’t fair,” Agnes said. “Especially if you’re a woman in Kaolin.”

They crossed into the East Village, which served as Old Port’s artist colony. The buildings were painted in bright colors, pinks and yellows and blues, and the residents dressed in outlandish clothes, revealing necklines, and feathers and high-heeled boots. Cafés spilled out onto the sidewalks, tables filled with bohemian types drinking wine or espresso, smoking cigarettes and discussing the latest book or philosophy or song. Agnes loved driving through the East Village but had never dared to walk its streets; she felt so apart from it, like an unwelcome guest. Her high-collared blouse, fine skirt, and Solit brooch would make her stand out here more than she did as a woman in the financial district.

“Why do you think she married him?” Ebenezer asked.

“Sorry?”

“Your mother. I mean, I get that your father needed her money, but if they didn’t love each other, why did she agree to the marriage?”

Agnes thought for a moment. “I have no idea.”

“Maybe he was quite the handsome catch back then,” Ebenezer mused.

“Ew,” she said, cringing. “I don’t want to think about that.”

He chuckled. “Fair enough.”

He made a good point, though, she had to admit. Why had her mother married her father? Why leave Pelago and come to Old Port, where she was seen as a freak, an oddity, a perversion of what a proper woman should be? She looked