relationship. Not in great detail. I had sensed some issues between Brando and my mother from the start. Eunice had hinted at these as well, but being the most neutral person in existence, refused to expand on this point.
Something had happened before Elliott had passed that kept him from their home. Pushing the issue, from either side, didn’t seem worth it. Either way, I walked a fine line over shattered glass from the past.
Then there was the wide and rich circle my parents ran in to consider. This event was not limited to our small town. Its reach spanned over states and countries. And over the years I had taken to calling them fakes and phonies, two terms I had adopted from Grandmother Poésy.
My parents were not excluded from the circle of fakes and phonies. Especially my mother. She was not Grandmother Poésy, and whatever it was about her—her sense of family, home, and honor, her sense of levity—that brought peace to my grandfather seemed lost on Pnina.
This was why a definite line had been drawn in the sand between wife and mother-in-law. Grandmother Poésy didn’t have quite the influence that crowned my mother queen. In fact, Evelyn Rose Ross had been treated like a social leper, all because she had denounced what my grandfather’s family stood for.
I had once overheard a woman call her Molly Brown (also known as Unsinkable Molly from the ship Titanic) because she had been what my grandfather’s family had dubbed nouveau riche—a woman with newly acquired riches and zero taste.
Needless to say, Pnina Poésy fit in among high society like a solid gold ornament on a Christmas tree.
My mother longed to see me glide through crowds of people, a sparkling fat multi-karat ring on my left finger, tales of the ballet on my tongue. I was to be worldly, cultured. I would speak foreign languages, put names to exotic tasting dishes, and all the while my face and body would be something to admire.
Your demureness will hypnotize them! You have this in you! But the eyes, the eyes will make them weak in the knees. You know how to use these to your advantage.
Maja Resnik had once purred that at me during one of our many training sessions in Slovenian.
Running a fingertip along the simple gold picture frame on the vintage vanity, a picture of Brando and I, I sighed, knowing sooner or later this scene would be inevitable.
I couldn’t help who I was, no more than Brando could help who he was.
Light music floated up the stairs, twirled in the hallway, and snuck under my door. Antonio Vivaldi, “Winter” from The Four Seasons. My fingertip continued to caress in time to the music, along the frame, along the wood, over the three-piece diamond and pearl encrusted brush set that had belonged to Maja Resnik during her dancing days.
The need to smooth over felt overwhelming. Come eight o’clock, the need was out of my hands.
“Is Violet Constance still preparing for the party?”
I blinked at my father. He stood by the window overlooking the balcony, his wide shoulders and back turned to me. He had knocked only moments ago, sent by my mother to check on us. Instead of turning to go after I gave him thumbs up, he dallied.
“Violet Constance is near ready, Daddy. She’s just finishing up in the bathroom.”
He nodded, turned slowly from the window, and fixed me with a stare. “Is that one of your mother’s?”
He meant one of my mother’s designs. A famed Pnina Poésy. I looked down at the gown she had created for me: red crepe de chine the color of oxblood and a plunging neckline that fell into a V just below the sternum. An impressive bow tied around my waist to seal the deal. The fabric moved with me as easily and as luxuriously as cool silk.
I glanced at myself in the mirror. A “friend” of my mother’s had curled my hair in plump waves. Old Hollywood glamour. Or as Violet had called it, à la Jessica Rabbit. For once my part was not centered, but instead, parted deeply to the side.
“Yes, Mati sent this over for me. And one for Violet Constance too.” I grinned, imagining the way Violet’s nose would scrunch up when he called her that.
“It looks fine on you, just fine, darlin’.” He nodded and made his way over, standing behind me. “But I do believe it needs just one thing.”
He reached inside the pocket of his fitted tuxedo and removed a