“I’ll…I’ll tell everyone what you’re doing, and no one will ever want to work with you again.”
“That’ll only make me bigger. Wealthy desperate people willalwaysbe in need of someone who’s willing to get her hands dirty.”
Bugger, she’s right. I sigh, then lower my voice. “I’ll do anything.”
Oh, that seems to have worked because she’s tapping her chin with her finger while she stares at me. “Anything?”
“Anything. Name it.”
A slow smile spreads across her face, causing my stomach to turn to stone. I’ve just made a deal with the devil, haven’t I?
21
Apricot Jam, Dragon-Slaying Virgins, and Painful Pep Talks
Arabella
“Somebody better be dead,”Gran says into the phone. “Because there’s no other acceptable reason to call me at this ungodly hour.”
“It’s nearly 8 a.m.,” I say, staring out the window of my hotel room into Am Hof Square.
“Exactly.”
“I’m sorry, I just really needed to talk to you. It seems like the entire world is falling apart and I feel very much alone.”
“That’s because you got used to all that regular shagging,” Gran says, “And now that you haven’t had it for a while, you’re upset. Buy a vibrator and a dirty book. You’ll be fine.”
“Gran!” I say, wondering why I bothered to call her in the first place. “I wish just once you could sound like a regular grandmother—the kind who bakes bread and comforts her grandchildren when they’re having a rough go.”
“Oh, sweetheart, if you wanted that, you really should’ve been born into a different family. Hang on for a minute. Now that I’m up, I’m famished.” I hear her ring her bell, then start her breakfast order—steel cut oats with berries and Earl Grey tea. Since her heart attack, she starts all but one morning a month this way.
I look out at the Mariensäule, a statue of the Virgin Mary set on a tall pillar in the centre of the square. Under her feet is a dragon with an arrow through his back. I sigh, wondering how she managed to vanquish her dragon.
Oh, Arabella, dramatic much?
Turning from the window, I glance at my untouched meal of palatschinken, which are, in my humble opinion, the world’s most amazing crepe-like pancakes. They’re filled with apricot jam that’s been infused with Viennese brandy. I also ordered a side of apfelradln, which are fried apple rings, going all-in on carbs and icing sugar in an attempt to lift my spirits.
Gran clears her throat and comes back on the line with me. “All right, since you’ve already started my day on the wrong foot, you might as well tell me what’s up your tush.”
“Oh, thanks,” I say sarcastically. “Honestly, I don’t even know where to start. There are justsomany things going wrong. Will and I haven’t seen each other in close to two weeks and we’ve had a huge row—”
“—Tessa told me how our Arthur lent a hand in that. Tosser.”
“Right? He got me all worked up and I said the most awful things when I spoke with Will, and even though he says he forgives me and our conversations since have been quite lovely, I really won’t know if we’re truly okay until I see him face-to-face. He was supposed to come here, but he went to Valcourt instead and I have no idea why. He said it was unavoidable, but I honestly don’t know what could be so bloody important. And I hate myself for even worrying about it because there are so many more important things in this world to focus on, like poverty and disease and violence, not ‘is my boyfriend mad at me?’” I say, taking a deep breath and continuing my rant. “Plus, I’m surrounded by all these amazing women which only serves to highlight the fact that I’ve never really done anything of consequence my entire life. Literally nothing that any other person couldn’t have just slid into my place and done. And I’m supposed to have turned into this brave champion of women’s rights, but the truth is, no matter what I did in my fleeting moment of courage in the jungle, I’m still the same old unremarkable me. So, what should I do?”
There’s a long pause, then Gran says, “Oh, are you done? I stopped listening somewhere around the word boyfriend.”
“Seriously, Gran?”
“No, not really, but good God, can you ever go on with the whining. That might be the one area in which you do have extraordinary talents.”
“Forget it,” I say, with a sigh. “I’m sorry I woke you.”
“Oh, fine,” she says, reluctantly. “I’ll try to help. First off, you’re not unremarkable. It was a very unkind thing of me to say and I only half meant it.”
“No, don’t backtrack now,” I say. “You were absolutely correct about me. “
“Come now, you’re being too hard on yourself, which is my job. If you keep this up, you’ll put me out of business.”
