“Now, now, this matter of you being a companion is mostly fiction. You’re here to have pleasure and,” Thalia added with a romantic smile, “you will want to spend more time with dear Ashart.”
Dear Ashart, my foot!“I’m tired, too, Thalia. It’s been a long day, and I didn’t sleep well last night.”
Thalia pouted. “Oh, very well, but I will not have you hiding away! Or hovering over Callie and me.”
“I won’t.” Genova meant that. She’d pay guineas for moments alone.
“What is that lovely box, dear?”
Genova turned to look. “It holds mypresepe.That’s an Italian Nativity scene—the stable and figures. My family always set it up for Christmas wherever we were.”
We.An entity that was gone forever.
“Then you must set it up here, dear!”
Genova smiled at the dear lady. “I admit, I had hoped to.”
Despite her former claim of tiredness, Thalia bounced out of her chair and over to the box. “Excellent. I long to see it!”
She waited, eager as a child, as Genova turned the key and raised the lid. As always, Thalia’s open pleasure was contagious and drove away lingering concerns.
Genova took out the folded cloth on top and opened it. “My mother called this the flowers-in-the-snow. It was very grand once, but it’s sadly shabby now.”
She used Hester’s word deliberately. Sometimes wounds needed to be opened for them to heal. “I have a new one, the one I’ve been embroidering.”
She smoothed the new cloth on a small, square table. She’d managed to set the last stitches today without her frame, including the ones necessary to hide the damage done that morning in the fight with Ashart.
That fight.
That kiss…
“Oh, I see now what you were doing.” Thalia compared the two cloths, then touched the old one. “Well-worn, but it was lovely work once.”
A knot inside Genova loosened. She folded the old cloth gently and put it aside, then took out the firstrag-wrapped bundles and began to undo them. “These are the pieces of the stable. I must set this up first.”
“What fun!”
Thalia took over the unwrapping, watching as Genova slotted together the pieces of wood. Genova set it up on the cloth on the table, but then she looked at the fireplace.
“We’ve always put it on a mantelpiece when possible,” she said.
“Then you must here, too!”
Thalia moved the gilt, lyre-form clock to the end of the mantelpiece, and Genova spread the cloth in the center. Her work was not as fine as the original, but the gold shone in the candlelight, and the flowers bloomed afresh. Then she set the assembled stable in the center.
Regeanne returned with a restoring tisane. With cries of alarm and scowls at Genova, she tried to get Thalia back into her chair. Thalia took the tisane but brushed the rest aside.
“See, Regeanne. We are going to set up a Nativity scene. Apresepe, Genova calls it.”
“Une crèche.” Regeanne nodded, mellowing a little. “It will be very nice to have. If you do not need me, milady, may I visit the nurseries to see how thepetit angegoes on?”
Thalia gave her blessing, and Regeanne left. Thalia returned to the box, clearly longing to discover it all. She reminded Genova of her own excitement as a child, bringing a smile and some of the old magic.
“Yes, we can add some of the figures. You unwrap, and I’ll put them in place.”
Thalia set to. “Oh, an ox! How very well made. And a sheep and lamb. How lovely!” She exclaimed with delight at each discovery, banishing every taint and shadow.
“What’s that song, dear? A carol?”
