and spare keys were given to the neighbors as a precaution.” My aunt slid into her gown and presented her back to me to help with the zipper. “You saved him.”
I puffed out my cheeks and let out a sound of relief. It was a pleasant surprise that this incident worked out, but the burden of seeing the future was one I was glad to be rid of. My aunt was born to wield this kind of power. I admired her for it.
I pulled the slider to the top stops and smoothed out the tiny bump along the seams. “If you had to give up your gift for love, would you?”
“No, I want both. I’d like to think I’ve made enough sacrifices in my life to be spared this choice.” She adjusted the tail of her gown. “There isn’t a rule written down that we can’t make the most-selfish decisions for ourselves. I’m sad it took this long for me to realize that.”
When I got here, my only goal was to return to California in control. Instead, I gained a new ability and rid myself of my curse. I found love in Paris and lost it along with my sense of purpose. If I had my wish, I’d want to bring Marc home with me.
“You’re thinking about him, aren’t you?” Aunt Evelyn asked.
“I am. I wish I could stop, but I can’t.”
“Love will find a way. If Girard and I can be together now, there’s hope.”
I checked my scarlet lipstick in the vanity mirror. “Did you ever see both of you getting together again?”
“No. If I had, I would have done this years ago. I’m content not seeing my own future. It would make life boring otherwise. It was, however, quite helpful seeing yours. Still, I don’t know how to explain what’s happened to you, why your clairvoyance vanished after your accident and why you gained this new ability. And why do I have a red thread?”
All of my aunt’s concerns were valid, yet I didn’t want answers. My problems were solved; the details weren’t important. I’d spent too much time, thought, and misery over how much my predictions affected me. I wanted to move on to the next phase in my life even if I didn’t know where it would take me.
“The red thread is a good thing,” I replied. “Why wonder where it came from or what caused it?”
Aunt Evelyn arched a brow and smiled. “That is the difference between you and me. I will consult the society. This is a set of mysteries that’s irresistible to any auntie. Curiosity is a powerful motivator, and you know we are a nosy bunch.”
“Does this mean you’ve forgiven them?”
“I have, but I haven’t told them that. Give me another day.” Aunt Evelyn shut her jewelry box and held the door open for me. “We don’t want to be late for dinner.”
“Because you have a hot date,” I teased.
“That I do.” She gave me a playful smack on the arm.
Fifty-One
Girard’s restaurant was like I remembered, and having him greet us as we walked in, a welcome surprise. He wore a sleek suit in charcoal with a peacock-blue silk dress shirt. Their red thread linked them together and matched the hue of Aunt Evelyn’s gown. Now that I could see the physical manifestations of two people bound together, wedding rings seemed a formality.
He lifted Aunt Evelyn’s fingers to his lips and kissed them and then whispered something in French in her ear. She giggled. A lone blue morpho danced over their heads.
“You both look beautiful,” he said, offering an arm to me while my aunt took the other.
I placed my arm in his. “Thank you.”
We stepped inside and were escorted to one of the private rooms. The opulence of the main dining room was a fraction of what I was led into. Girard explained that there were three private rooms styled after three of his favorite art nouveau artists: Alphonse Mucha, René Lalique, and Gustav Klimt.
After having seen Klimt’s exhibit, I imagined that room to be full of golds and bursts of jewel tones. René Lalique, the master of glass, was a familiar name because the aunties collected and coveted his pieces. His room must showcase Girard’s personal collection.
We entered the Alphonse Mucha–inspired room and were surrounded by murals of ethereal fairy women in flowing robes. Their soft, ageless faces contrasted with the heavy line work of flowers and vines. About a decade ago, I’d seen an exhibit featuring advertisement art and