- have you taken a whiff of that concoction?"
Vero's laugh rolled as she headed back down the hall. She returned a minute later with a glass that struck terror in Elsie's heart - a twin to the one Lizard had shoved in her hands two hours prior. "I can't drink that. I tried. It tastes like raw frogs."
"An apt description, child." Vero looked amused, but also oddly sympathetic. "Sometimes we must suffer for our art. I'm sure it tastes absolutely vile, but I can promise it will make that head of yours feel much better. Ginia is a talented healer."
Elsie stared at the glass, stomach roiling in fierce protest.
Melvin smiled. "Try holding your nose. I hear that can help."
Vero snorted. "Try plotting revenge on Ginia the next time you see her. I speak from experience, unlike my accountant husband who never does anything silly enough to earn him a hangover." She wrapped an arm around Elsie's shoulders. "We singers are more prone to excess, aren't we, love? Go on now. Drink it down."
Vero's strong arm and Melvin's sympathetic smile helped Elsie find the bravery she hadn't been able to muster standing in her bedroom alone. With one hand, she plugged her nose. With the other, she tipped back the glass of raw frogs.
It was utterly, outrageously, flamboyantly vile. And it only took seconds to start making her head feel better.
Melvin held out a cup of tea. "Here, try this for a chaser. It'll get rid of some of that taste."
Vero snorted again. "Not unless you've spiked it with a little whiskey, dear - and that's probably not what Elsie needs right now." She moved to the door, her bearing a royal summons. "Come now. Let's go sing, shall we?"
Elsie leaned down to kiss Melvin's cheek, greatly relieved that her head seemed more prone to staying on her shoulders now. "Thank you."
He raised his hands to her face. "You have some rough mornings ahead of you yet, my girl. Learn from my wife. She is magnificent in moments of joy, and suffering, and everything in between."
As she walked down the hall to the music room, Elsie pondered his words. And wished she had a small fraction of Vero's bold style. Or even her beautifully colorful dress.
Elsie entered the room and walked over to stand by the grand piano. Vero looked up from a sheaf of music, eyes twinkling. "Is my husband telling you nonsense about me again?"
"He really loves you." Elsie had no idea where those words had come from, but she felt their power. "You're not at all alike, but he knows exactly who you are."
"Yes." Vero laid her hands on the piano keys. "He is the greatest gift of my life - and I'm finally old enough and wise enough to appreciate him." She smiled softly. "I didn't always - and I will be eternally grateful he had the patience to wait for me to figure it out."
There was a story behind those words. Elsie tilted her head, curious. Seeking.
"Ah, my dear." Vero stood and moved over to a window, her gaze somewhere far, far away. "I was such a restless soul. A woman of extremes and large passions. I wanted to feel everything, do everything. I found love in an artist's garret in Paris and wept in the streets of Prague when he broke my heart. I tasted all of the grapes of Tuscany and sang out my pain with some of Italy's greatest tenors." She smiled. "If you had told me then that true happiness would come sitting over a cup of tea with a blind accountant..."
Elsie's heart ached, and she wasn't entirely sure why. "Do you not need those things now?"
"Oh, I'll always need them." Vero returned to the piano, smiling. "I was born with big feelings. And without my Paris artist or my Tuscan grapes, I wouldn't know tea and happiness for what it is."
"And the music."
"Always." Vero patted Elsie's hand. "You have some of my passion in you - I see it when you sing. Don't be afraid to be bold, darling girl, even if it causes the occasional headache."
Elsie looked down at her hands, clutching the piano. "I mostly just feel silly."
Vero laughed, coating the room in rich melody. "Part of the package. You can't live a bold life and not feel silly at least once a day. In fact, I suggest plenty of practice." Her hands ran briskly over the keys. "Let's get our voices moving, shall we? I have a small