Jennie sighed. "I wasn't remotely ready to feel talented. Talent demands that you respect and honor it, and I was still kicking myself around the block seventeen different ways. Talent without the self-confidence to handle it can be terrifying."
Lauren was catching up fast. She eyed the door to Lizard's classroom. "Especially when that talent finally shows up in public." No, that wasn't quite right - poetry was close to Lizard's surface, but not outside it yet. "Or at least sees the opportunity."
Jennie nodded slowly. "There's invitation in that room. Interest, respect, shared passion."
Damn. Lauren closed her eyes, well able to picture what was coming next. "What do we do?"
"What you do best." Jennie squeezed Lauren's hand. "I think I was only meant to come steer you in the right direction."
Crap. What? "You're leaving?" Lauren didn't need her pendant vibrating any longer - she was plenty worked up without it.
"We both are." Jennie smiled. "This was just a scouting mission. She'll come to you soon enough. Send her to me later, when she's ready to talk about the fierce demands of talent. She'll need you first, though, doing what you do best."
Lauren was totally clueless. And what's that?
Jennie hooked Lauren's elbow and dragged her down the hall. You treat her like an adult - one who can make smart choices. I want to protect her too much. You'll demand that she look this in the eye. It's one of your greatest gifts.
Lauren was far too smart a negotiator to fall for that kind of flattery, even if Jennie meant every word.
Chapter 16
Vero could hear the music before Elsie ever opened her mouth - it streamed from her every pore. Oh, goodness. "You look happy today, my dear."
Elsie giggled and pulled up her jeans. "My socks don't match."
Indeed they didn't. And neither of them looked like they'd been a part of Elsie's pre-silliness wardrobe. "Went sock shopping, did you?"
"Mhmm." Elsie looked up, eyes twinkling. "Do you know they even sell socks that don't match on purpose? It was more fun to mix them up myself, though."
Vero's heart throbbed with hurt for the woman who was only discovering the joys of personally stamping your wardrobe at thirty-two years old. And delighted that she wouldn't be waiting any longer. "You might be brave and move past socks next time."
To her utter astonishment, Elsie turned twenty-five shades of red and crossed her arms protectively over her chest.
Oh. Oh, my. Vero's laughter rolled, and she reached out, cupping Elsie's face in her hands. "Got yourself some saucy new underwear, did you? How completely marvelous. Was that one of the ideas in your Silly Jar?" It should have been - she'd have sent it herself if the girl had even hinted at being ready for it.
Her student was still flaming red, but managed to get a few words out. And then an avalanche of them. "No. But I rode Caro's bike down a hill with no hands, and then I went sock shopping because I was sad to say goodbye to Alfred, and the socks were cute, but there was this purple lace bra." She ground to a halt, cheeks steaming. "It was the same color as Alfred."
Vero had met Caro's frog. And opera singers, even old, dried-up ones, just didn't do a good job of hiding their emotions. Vero collapsed in a chair, overtaken with delicious giggles. The child had bought underwear to match a plastic frog. An act of perfect silliness.
And the woman who had created such a moment of perfection was embarrassed enough that she might stop breathing at any moment. Vero pushed up out of the chair, reaching for the deeper emotions she wanted Elsie to see. "Don't, sweet girl - don't lock up the utter beauty of what you've done."
Elsie looked totally mystified. And wavered on the precipice between adoring her new underwear and hating it.
So Vero used what she knew best. She sang one of her favorite arias, full of sexy, playful daring. It was the kind of music she'd been most famous for - Veronica Liantro was daring down to her bones. And singing, she pushed the aria's sensual notes deep into the heart of her audience of one. Be a woman, the music called. Dare to play. Dare to live.
For forty years, she'd watch audiences react - and Elsie was a delightfully responsive audience. Slowly, her arms unfolded from her chest, and the fierce red of her cheeks abated, replaced by curious eyes.