Through Time She Came

Ch.21 Angel of the Woods

April 7, 1928

The following morning, Anet was hesitant about leaving the room. Having slept in long enough, she knew she'd have to face Vic sooner or later. She dressed and took her time getting downstairs.

She passed Torelli on her way to the kitchen. "You're in trouble now, Cookie." smirk.

She ignored him.

In the kitchen Vic sat at the table. Newspaper spread.

"Coffee?" she spoke nonchalant.

Vic more chalant, "Not if you're making it."

The corner of her mouth turned upward. She was good at making bad coffee. He was so nice about it up until now.

"Breakfast?"

"What were you doing last night?"

"Sleeping." she brought him a glass of water.

"You didn't answer your door."

"Were you knocking?"

SMACK!

She almost fell backwards. He stared at her. She held firm as best she could.

"Next time. You answer." He stalked off.

She shuddered. Nerves rattling. Thankful that no one else was present in the kitchen.

~•~

That night, Anet was more than the better hostess she had promised to be. She was the Archangel of L'Angela! And she would use that to her advantage here in the woods! 

Thomas sat at the piano, ran his fingers across the keys playing all her greatest hits. Vic's guests swooned as she crooned. Interacting with them, she serenaded one lucky gentleman after another, knowing that when she'd be ready to move onto the dancing, she'd be excused from the arms of Vic.

And her plan worked accordingly! She laughed and flirted mildly with every gentleman that cut in, winning their hearts. She was playful yet careful enough not to send signals that would invite trouble.

"Cookie." Torelli had cut in. Sleazy grin.

"Oh my goodness, Mr. Torelli." she said in mock-sincerity, "What has happened to your jaw!?"

Sarcastic laugh. "I must admit, Miss Peters, you have a clean right hook. Not many canaries can say that."

"Not many canaries had a dad teach them self-defense."

"And where's daddy now?"

"Pushing up daisies, Mr. Torelli. Since I was 15. And mama too."

"Could that be why you're so off-standing?"

"'Cuz daddy wasn't there to protect me from mugs like you?" she smirked, "Nah. I just prefer gentlemen."

He drew closer, "I can be a gentleman."

"No, Torelli. I don't think you can."

"Excuse me."

"Excuse yourself. Can't you see the lady and I are dancing?"

"Actually, we're done." Anet pushed off. Took the extended hand of Thomas H. Graft.

"Thanks."

"He was certainly making like the French."

"If it weren't for Vic standing by, I'm sure he'd been tryin' to neck like the French." she shuddered. "I hate that guy."

"His brother Joe is much easier to get along with."