“At the same time?”
“If necessary.”
“I’ve never used chopsticks, and I’ve never worn heels.”
She made tiny shakes of her head, then pressed the screen into my hand. “I’ll have your gowns brought by. Eat. There are chopsticks on the tray. Use them. Read as much of this as you can. We will go through walking lessons in an hour. I will test you on your knowledge. You will do brilliantly, I am sure. But you must begin now. We have no time. No time at all.”
She clapped again, then turned and stomped her way out of the room, pausing at the door to give me a conciliatory look. “You will have to put the gun away, however. There are no weapons allowed in the gathering.”
Then she shut the door.
I stood there feeling like I’d just been buffeted by a tiny, demanding whirlwind.
Her visit had done me some good, actually. It had shaken me out of my wallow enough to clear my head.
Time to make a plan. I ate while I thought things through, doing my best with the food sticks. Turned out I wasn’t half bad with them, and by the end of the meal—vegetables and meat over rice and noodles—I had gotten more food in my mouth than on my lap. Good enough.
I wanted to get a message out to House Brown to look out for Grandma, but doing so might bring her harm. There had to be a way to save Grandma, get Quinten away from House Orange, and deal with the gathering.
I just didn’t know how.
Yet.
I pulled out the screen and information Elwa wanted me to learn. I read through schedule and history of past gatherings, looking for when I might have a chance to be unobserved. Because any plan I came up with would need to be handled House Brown’s way: off grid and out of sight.
A curt knock on the door pulled me up out of the information.
Elwa didn’t wait for an invitation; she waltzed right in, a man dressed all in gray following her with an armful of clothing.
“Take it to the bedroom, please,” she said to him. “How was your meal?”
“I practiced with the chopsticks.”
“Good, good. Now let’s get you in your gown and heels so you can practice your walk.”
“Does it matter how I walk?”
“Yes. Every galvanized has been tutored in proper presentation. It is ceremony, Matilda. Pomp and performance. Theater. It won’t take long, but it must be given proper attention. You’ll be fine. Go. Change into whichever dress you wish. I’ll wait here.”
She made shooing motions with her hands, and I walked to the bedroom while the man who had accompanied her walked out.
“All my life going to hell, and I have to walk the right way and look pretty,” I muttered through clenched teeth.
I shucked out of my slacks and T-shirt, then looked at the three dresses laid out on the bed. Strapless or nearly so, cut to show neck, arms, and a good portion of leg. Any one of these would make me feel like I was parading around naked.
“Are you dressed?” Elwa asked. It had been exactly one minute since I’d shut the bedroom door.
“No.” I shrugged into the thick, soft gray bathrobe hanging on the hook by the bed and had just gotten it closed around me when she burst through the door.
“What is the trouble?” She looked at me, then at the dresses, then back at me.
“I’m wondering which order to put them on,” I said.
“Any order. I’d like to see you in all of them.”
“But which one goes on the bottom?”
She did that short head shake again. “I don’t understand.”
