Flicka winched her mouth up into a sweet, princessy smile.“I’d love to see your house. Could you take me on a tour a little later? After I use some of the things in the boxes? I’d love to see what you’ve done with it.”
Sophie’s shoulders lowered a fraction of an inch, and her smile warmed. “Yes, a tour. I’d like to show you the house. Supper is at nine o’clock.”
“Perfect,” Flicka said. “Can I get something for Alina, earlier?”
“Oh, yes. You can stopby the kitchen or use the intercom,” she flicked a careless gesture toward the wall beside the door, “to call for something to be sent up.”
“Okay, thanks. That’s perfect.”
“I’ll stop by a little later to collect you for the tour.”
“That would be great.”
Sophie crouched and spread her arms, asking Alina for a hug in French.
Flicka translated for Alina, saying,“Grand-mamanwants a hug. It’sokay. You can if you want to.”
Alina, ever-affectionate and happy to hug anyone, bobbled over and patted her chubby hands on Sophie’s shoulders.
Sophie closed her pale blue eyes for a moment as she hugged her granddaughter, and creases lined the skin around her eyes.
She stood. “I didn’t think I would ever see my Raphael again, let alone his child. You must excuse me.”
Sophie left the room,and Flicka sank to the couch.
She was definitely a prisoner here, and she had no idea why.
And, worse, so was Alina.
Alina toddled over and patted her knee. “Flicka-mama? Play? Or die-die change?”
Flicka grasped her legs and pushed herself to stand. “Yes. The nice ladies brought new diapers, so let’s get that changed, shall we?”
