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“I think he’s stunning to look at, and apparently rich, charming, and irresistible.”
“Oh,” Van said. “I was hoping … ” He couldn’t find any words for what he was hoping. Maybe because he couldn’t quite figure out what he actually was hoping, other than that his aunt would be a little more enthusiastic.
“Perhaps I just need some time.” Her smile spread wider but turned more brittle.
Van couldn’t summon much disappointment over Aunt Cynthia’s tepid reaction. He wasn’t even very angry that he might have to let Mary say she’d told him so.
He wanted Aunt Cynthia to be happy, and it was a raw wound in his gut that he hadn’t been able to make it happen yet. He stretched out his hand for hers, and the touch made them both feel a little better, he thought.
“Where is the man of the evening?” Van hoped his smile hid what he was thinking.
Aunt Cynthia shrugged, and the few tendrils of light glinted off her sapphire necklace.
Van seized on that. Sometimes meaningless talk wastheperfectthing.“Isthatthenecklacemyfather once gave you?”
She shrugged again. “No, but it’s similar. I didn’t care to wear anything my brother gave me in his later days. He often thought extravagant gifts would excuse him for not giving anything of himself in any meaningful way. Opulent design is … useful sometimes.”
“You didn’t like him much.”
“No, darling, I didn’t, especially after your mother died. He changed, and not for the better. I tried to hide it from you when you were a child. Still, you didn’t like him either. I’m very sorry about that.”
“The best time of my life was after he died, and I came to live with you. I guess I didn’t know it at the time. I was too torn up wishing things hadn’t been the way they were when he was alive.”
Aunt Cynthia brushed his hair off his forehead. For once, he let her.
Guinevere startled both of them by padding in, whining.
“What the — ”
“Van, what — ”
They gaped instead of finishing their sentences.
Guinevere’s massive jaws were full of jewels in a necklace spilling over the sides of her muzzle along with her slobber. She nudged Van’s knee with her nosetomakesurehenoticedwhatshewascarrying.
Van looked at Aunt Cynthia. He looked at Guinevere and back at Aunt Cynthia. Shock and distaste suffused her face.
“Guinevere!” she scolded.
Guinevere’s head drooped unhappily, but she kept her gentle grip on the jewels.
Van had to agree with her. Aunt Cynthia, that is. Not Guinevere. “Guinevere, where did you get the jewels?”
She whined softly, which didn’t sound like the abject apology he expected from her when her humans made it clear they weren’t happy with her. But then, she didn’t usually galumph around the place with other people’s belongings in her mouth, either. Not even the most alluring old leather slipper. Never mind a valuable necklace.
Van reached for the necklace, and Guinevere dropped it into his hand. The jewelry lay there, the hard gems — the slobbery wet gems — sparkling in a subdued sort of way in the dappled light from the party and pool area.
Sometimes he wished Guinevere wasn’t so cooperative. If she had held on to her prize until he took it out of her mouth, he could have held the necklace gingerly between two fingers while he reached into his pocket for his handkerchief and wiped the prize off.
“I think this necklace is yours, Aunt Cynthia. Now that I see it so close to the one around your neck, I think this is one my father gave you.”
“Daddy,”AuntCynthiasaidabsently.“Didyouever call him Daddy? I think most kids do. At least when they’re young.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“That’s very sad. A child shouldn’t feel as though he has to call his father Father.”
“Is this necklace yours?” Van insisted.
