The Key to Fear - Kristin Cast Page 0,39

MediCenter, but, then again, her mother’s crowning achievement was that she had figured out how to make and bake muffins from scratch in less than ten minutes.

“Then you won’t mind doing me the favor of putting my mind at ease,” Gwen huffed. “Well, what do you think?”

Elodie twirled the frayed string of her sweatpants. “Of what?”

“Of what? The dress, Elodie, the dress. I swear …”

“I’m sure you look fine, but I can’t actually see you.” Elodie’s pillow slid out from the perfect spot behind her head as she shrugged. “You didn’t use the vid, just the com.”

“Well, crumb. How do I …?” Gwen’s strained words trailed off, and Elodie could picture her mother staring at her call screen, eyes pinched, tongue curled against her upper lip.

The gray box appeared with a bar of text: Accept vidlink from Gwendolyn Benavidez / “Mom”?

Elodie smoothed her hair and stiffened a bit before agreeing.

The box blurred and revealed Gwen. Her straight bangs brushed against her thick brows as she stared, eyes pinched, tongue curled against her expertly lipsticked upper lip.

Elodie couldn’t help but grin. Her mother was predictable to the point of comforting. “Uh, exactly how fancy is too fancy for a funeral?”

The black lace dress clung to Gwen’s curves like she’d been poured into it as liquid flesh. She turned in a circle, her coral lips moving.

Elodie leaned forward instinctually. “I can see you, but I can’t hear you. Did you mute the call?”

Gwen’s perfectly straight bangs shuffled against her forehead as she repeatedly craned her neck, birdlike. Besides Elodie’s mother’s faux blond hair, looking at her was like looking in a mirror. They both had the same smooth, full cheeks, perpetually pouty lips, square-tipped nose, and bronze skin. The only real difference was their eyes. Not the shape. They shared the same round eyes, the corners turning up like a sly half-smile. But unlike her mother’s crystal blue, Elodie’s were black and endless. Her father often said, Puedo ver el mundo en tus ojos, but Elodie could never remember what it meant.

Elodie’s own vidlink was still inactive, but she waved her hands in protest. “You don’t have to move your head around like that. There aren’t any options to select anymore. The update made it so that you just think about unmuting, and it’ll unmute. It’s way easier than it’s ever been.”

Her mom’s cheeks puffed with a sigh, her blue eyes narrowing with frustration. “Elodie, I can’t figure out how to make this damn thing work!” Gwen’s shout carried from the kitchen, up the stairs, and slammed into Elodie’s closed door. “Come help your mother!”

Damn was as close as Gwen came to cursing, and without fail technological updates pushed her to that point.

“Gwendolyn.” Determination hardened Elodie’s tone and forced her to call her mother by her complete first name. “I won’t be living with you forever,” she yelled from her room. “You’re going to have to learn how to do this without me rushing in to save you. Plus, you have Holly. Ask her for a tutorial.”

For as long as Elodie could remember she’d been telling her mother that she’d have to figure out new tech features on her own, but I won’t live with you forever had always seemed so far away. Then Elodie had been matched to Rhett, and now she was engaged. She’d be married in a few months, and was sure Rhett would not agree to them living in separate homes once they were wed. But living by herself for a little while would give her a chance to finish Death by Violet without being chastised for wearing comfy pants. Elodie shook away the thought, and, for the second time that day, reminded herself that there was no point in thinking about something that would never happen.

Another shout from downstairs. “I apparently did not do a very good job raising you if you won’t just come down here and help your mother figure this out.”

With a sigh, Elodie slid her book into her bag and pushed herself out of bed. Repeatedly referring to herself as your mother was another one of Gwen’s annoyed tells.

“Be right there.” Elodie ended the call.

The ears on her fuzzy bunny slippers flopped side to side as she descended the stairs. She hadn’t grown that much since her thirteenth birthday, when her father had surprised her with the slippers and an e-vid from the Key announcing that she’d be entering the Long-Term Care Unit’s nursing program. Even though the rest of her wardrobe had