“A French version of Robert Redford. Quite dashing. The aunties were impressed.”
Rococo oil paintings, in their gilded frames, stood out against the deep red walls. Bronze sculptures populated the shelves. My fingers itched to reach out and touch them.
“Evelyn is one of those rare souls who is open to others but also guards the most private parts of herself,” Uncle Michael continued. “She knows the name of every family member, is generous at every occasion, and attends every function. Yet, how many do you think she’s invited into her home? Me—and you.”
I had never realized how alone Aunt Evelyn was.
Red threads were everywhere. Sparkling ruby garlands wove through people like a moving spiderweb. If I could fly overhead, I could see the patterns of constellations representing the bridges of humanity. For someone who never had one of her own, seeing them brought me joy. This was what I’d been missing all my life.
And my aunt didn’t have one.
It was a steep price to pay for her clairvoyance.
It wasn’t fair.
Thirty-Eight
The next morning, I woke up breathless. My heartbeat hovered near the edge of my throat as my skin hummed with an electric energy that popped the sheets and blankets around me. It was as if my body was reminding me that I was alive.
The experience had left me reassessing what kind of life I was resuming. I failed at controlling my predictions, but gained the power to see red threads. Where did that leave me? Did I want to go back to my office at the accounting firm? Spend countless weekends alone while surrounded by family?
I wanted to bring Marc home to meet them, but after that? Despite a rebellious streak, I had ended up working at the family firm like a good, respectable Yu.
Now, I wanted more, from love, from life, from everything. Ma knew this.
I was no longer cursed.
There wasn’t anything now stopping me from what I wanted.
I didn’t know what would come next, but I wasn’t scared.
After dressing in a pair of dark jeans and an off-the-shoulder cashmere sweater and checking my phone (still nothing from Marc), I made my way to the kitchen. Midmorning sunlight streamed through the windows. I must have slept in. Prophecy lessons were canceled. I was a carefree tourist again.
My aunt had left a note on the kitchen table.
Dear Vanessa,
No need to come into the shop during the day. However, if you feel well enough and can manage, I would appreciate you dropping by Ines’s bakery and picking up some treats. The few customers coming in appreciate the tea and biscuit pairing.
Love,
Aunt Evelyn
The boycott and gossip were denting her profits, and with my accident she had lost another day. Her conversation with my uncle last night uncovered a direr picture than what she had presented to me. Failure wasn’t an option. My aunt had too much pride to move back. While I didn’t know yet what I wanted to do with my life, Aunt Evelyn had gambled everything she owned for her heart’s desire.
Reuniting her with Girard would save her business. My schedule was now clear and, with a little over a week left, I could focus on this task. I checked my phone again, but Marc hadn’t responded to my messages. My coconspirator was missing in action, and I was worried that his boss might be responsible.
I needed to recruit another to my cause. I needed Ines’s help. She considered my aunt family. Aunt Evelyn’s support system was small, and Ines’s family was its core. I headed to my favorite bakery with the cats painted on the front windows.
* * *
* * *
There was no sign of Luc when I arrived at the bakery. The glorious aroma of butter, sugar, vanilla bean, and cacao hovered in the air. When I eventually left Paris, I’d miss the luxury of bakeries within walking distance. Ines lounged at the counter. Her short, pixie hair cut exposed a sharpened pencil tucked behind her ear.
“Oh my, Vanessa! Are you all right?” She rushed to greet me from behind the counter.
“I’m fine. I had a minor accident.” I tapped my cane. “This is temporary. I have a sore hip and it’s helping me. This scar, however, is permanent.”
She examined my right elbow. “It looks like it’s healing well though.”
“No delivery from a certain someone today?” I asked.
She sighed and resumed her position behind the counter. “Someone else is doing the delivery now. I’m not sure if it was his or his parents’ idea to change his