and Mrs. O’Malley, and finally me. She doesn’t seem too fond of the garment, the curl in her lips a sure sign, but the subtle pout Izzy’s working softens her from one moment to the next.
Oh no she didn’t.
Sly little rascal.
At my giggle, Persia realizes what her daughter’s up to. Her brown eyes widen on a gasp and she leans down, whispering something in N’Isabelle’s ear.
I can’t even hear it, but I know what she’s telling her.
Izzy nods shortly thereafter and returns her stare—far more sheepish now—on my mother. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Bell. I just wanted to see it on her.”
My mom couldn’t be more confused if she tried. Takes her a moment, and Persia’s subtle help, to grasp the point behind N’Isabelle’s apology. Even still, she smiles down at Izzy and drops to her level, reaching out for her little hand. “I can’t be upset. She has a true gift. Had you not pointed it out, I would’ve never noticed.”
Persia sighs, but I don’t miss the proud look she sets on her daughter. “She does it all the time. I’ve tried telling her she can’t just twist the mind as she pleases, there has to be a reason, but it goes in through one ear and out the other.”
“In her defense, she did have a reason,” I can’t help but say, to which Mama chuckles.
“Yes, you’re right. She did have a reason. Shall we let Tinksley try it on?” my mother asks Izzy.
The small witch nods in excitement and pulls both her mother and my own to the parlor chairs surrounding the platform I’m occupying.
I don’t know what exactly N’Isabelle did while she rummaged around my mom’s brain, but I have to remember to thank her.
Because I ended up leaving that shop with that dress.
And it truly is the prettiest dress I’ve ever seen.
Hopefully, my dearest Peter will think I look as beautiful as I feel, too.
I won’t lie…
I’m nervous to see Peter.
Things have been rather tense and awkward since the night I left his home. He’s sworn up to the heavens and back that everything is fine, that we’re fine, yet it all seems anything but.
Regardless, I’ve made it a point not to bring it up to him. If he’s so averse to the mention of us leaving Rosewood, imagine what he’ll do if I keep pestering him about something he promised wasn’t an issue. The last thing I want to do is push him away further than I already have.
It hasn’t been easy, but I’ve managed to make it through the week without opening my mouth once.
Not that I’ve seen a whole lot of him, really.
We have spent a few odd days together, but they’ve been more uneventful than not.
Still, in the midst of our unusual separation, he vowed he’d accompany me to N’Isabelle’s birthday as promised. Said he wouldn’t miss it for the world, that it would be his honor to have me on his arm.
Basically, all the things that make my heart flutter.
Things the entire island thinks I shouldn’t feel for Peter.
Knock, knock.
“Tinksley, honey,” my mother coos as she opens the door to my room.
Why she bothers knocking without awaiting a response, I’ll never know, but I plaster on a smile when our eyes lock in the mirror of my vanity and give her my attention. She smiles, too, genuinely, and saunters further into my bedroom, coming to stand behind me.
“You look beautiful,” she appraises from over my shoulder.
Not a rare compliment coming from her, but I blush nonetheless, inwardly beaming that she ended up agreeing to this dress.
“Thank you, Mama. So do you,” I answer, because she does.
In this fitted, royal blue number, the gold trim of her wings appear more luminous and luxurious than normal.
Her smile widens as she runs her hands down the front of her gown. “Thank you, darling. You know I usually lean more toward the lighter blues, but your father said I looked lovely in this one, and well...”
“He’s not wrong, Mama.” I blot at the rouge on my lips. “It suits you well.”
Our stares remain locked for a beat or two before she comes to stand beside me and gently plucks the handkerchief from my grip. My heart warms at the sight of us all done up like this while she sets about cleaning the edges of my lips.
We really do look so much alike.
Aside from my markings and the severe arch of my brows, I’m literally her carbon copy. It was one of my most favorite things