Page 13 of Made in Malice
I jerk in the direction of a soft, feminine voice and find a petite woman with blonde hair that seems golden under the lights. Her hands are up near her mouth, as if to cover the fact that she just called my name, while her light eyes are wide as she stares at me.
I don’t get the same visceral reaction to her resemblance to my mother in the way I did with my grandfather, but I find soft touches of my mom in this woman’s face. Her high cheekbones and perfect little nose are dead giveaways.
Finally, she removes her hands, and my grandfather joins her on the opposite side of the room from me. His stoic demeanor is much the same as it was earlier today, until he looks down at his wife, then his unaffected mien is replaced with what almost looks like sadness for just a brief moment.
“Hello,” I say, feeling awkward. I have no idea what they expected in a granddaughter, but I can almost bet it wasn’t me.
“Hello,” she responds with a wide smile. She strides over with speed and poise until she’s standing right in front of me. We’re about eye level, since she’s wearing heels, but she is delicate and thin where I’m sturdy. Dad used to joke that I was built for hard labor, and I never saw it as a bad thing.
“It’s like looking at your mother.” She scans my face so slowly, I start to feel uncomfortable, and I’m not sure where to look.
“I don’t see the likeness,” I admit. I always thought I looked more like my dad.
“Well, I do. How are you? Was your trip okay? Did you get unpacked?” She grabs my hand to hold it in hers, and I’m slightly alarmed with how cold her skin is.
“I’m okay, I have so many questions.”
“I’m sure you do.” She pats my hand, then guides me over to sit down at the first seat next to the head of the table on the left side, before taking the seat directly across from me.
Seconds after we’re seated, an older woman rolls a silver cart into the room and starts serving food. She places Rory’s dish down first, then Astrid’s, followed by mine. It’s a salad with spiky greens and some sort of vinaigrette by the smell of it. Lastly, she adds a small bowl of rolls before backing silently out of the room.
Astrid resumes speaking the moment she’s gone. “You’ve been working?”
“Yes, as a server since I graduated.” Which was well over a year now. I’ve never felt bad about that before, but now I find it a little lackluster.
“You did a good job taking care of yourself,” Rory chimes in, drawing my attention.
“Now you have us. You can go to school and take your place in the family,” Astrid says, speaking over her husband.
“At Cadieux?” I probably sound too hopeful. I don’t know why I want to go to that school so badly—maybe because I know I would never be able to get in on my own, or maybe it’s because it looks like something out of a medieval fairy tale—but my desire to attend has grown exponentially since I saw the school.
“Absolutely. Generations of our family have attended Cadieux.”
“Even my mother?”
Astrid’s charming smile slips at my question. “Yes, for a short time,” she answers, her tone flat. “We can get you enrolled first thing Monday.” By the time she’s done speaking, her smile is back in place as if it never disappeared, and Rory is watching his wife intently. I wonder if he’s worried my presence will disrupt their lives.
“Why did she leave?”
Rory’s attention shifts back to me at my question, while Astrid turns her focus to her food. “She fell in love with your father,” he answers.
“And?” I prompt, because I know there is more to the story.
“And she left to be with him,” Astrid says rather quickly, maybe even cutting off Rory’s response.
“So she had to choose?” I still haven’t touched my salad. I’m not even hungry at this point.
Rory turns the question around. “What did she tell you?”
“She didn’t.” I don’t want to admit she told me she was an orphan and that her parents were dead, because I think that would be needlessly hurtful.
Astrid sets her fork down after only a few demure bites of greens, and the server returns to take her plate almost immediately. We all remain quiet while the dishes are removed.
“There was no choice, but she still decided to leave. I wish things would have been different, but you’re here now, and I can’t be anything but happy about that,” Astrid finally tells me.
I don’t need to be a rocket scientist to know this conversation is hard for her, and there’s a part of me that’s worried about rocking the boat too much. That doesn’t mean I won’t keep looking for answers, but I’m sure there are other people I can talk to besides my grandparents.
“I’m excited for the chance to get to know you.” I don’t intentionally leave out Rory, but he’s just so quiet and standoffish. I wonder if he thinks I’ll disappear from their lives like my mother did, or if there’s some other reason he’s so aloof.