To Steal a Weeping Widow

Chapter Thirty-Six: Nice While It Lasted

"Portrait of Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire" by Thomas Gainsborough (1785-1787), stolen 1876 by the notorious "Napoleon of Crime" Adam Worth, and returned in 1901 for a ransom of $25,000 - value $408,870 (as of 1994)

Chapter Thirty-Six

I passed the dance floor, a ghost trying to become tipsy, feeling furious and heartbroken, grievously wronged and bitterly abandoned—

Then suddenly saw a reminder I needed.

As if the sky had split open to pour light, I was reminded there were more than just my troubles in the air, and more than just my enemies in the crowd. The tapestry of wealth and pompous circumstance had threads of gold in it; the gritty sand held glittering sea glass when sifted and searched.

More than anything else, my friends were worth searching for.

They had been broken and etched smooth by the rough tumble of the environment they'd been thrown in, like glass among the tides. They'd entered the merciless turbulence and made something beautiful from the pieces of themselves; when before they were see-through, transparent, and vulnerable, now they were opaque and weathered to strength.

August held Lena close. I'd never seen them like that. Lena's eyes were bright, her cheeks were red, and her very being emitted radiant joy as she laughed at August's whispers. And August, with his gaze stuck on the woman in his arms, watched in rapture as she tilted her head back to laugh; his own expression sketched with wonder and the purest, most undiluted forms of happiness.

Carrie was there as well, an angel donned in white. She floated on the dance floor like she owned it. She was guiding her boyfriend through the waltz, leading him in circles around the other couples. When she saw me, she waved, and I returned it with a glow of pride. Scott waved too, grinning as he shuffled his feet and tried to keep up with my flawless sister. He was nicer than I remembered. Kinder. He followed my sister with a loyalty I hadn't expected.

"You're Eleanor, right?"

The voice knocked on my silent observations, like knuckles on a rolled up window at a drive-in. I'd finally gotten to the best part, the only good part, just to be interrupted. How many people would I have to run into tonight? How long would I have to pretend?

"Depends who's asking," I replied. My eyes stayed focused on my celestial sister and besotted friends.

I heard a laugh. "That's fair."

I only turned when I couldn't avoid it anymore. My defenses were already raised to take in this new threat.

For a few beats, I looked at the stranger. The woman looked a few years older than me, but it was hard to say. Maybe it was her serenity, or the sense of wit she had about her, that confused her appearance of age. I wasn't sure. She seemed to weave wisdom and youth like opposing flavors at the hands of a chef. Her eyes were wide, framed by dark curls; her smile was even wider.

However, while she held herself with poise, my learned instincts hesitated too long. Something told me she wasn't a usual of this sort of scene.

Impressively, the woman saw my hesitation and respected it. "I'm Gabby Bendin, Beck's fiancée," she clarified. "He works for Riverwide."

"Oh!" I said. My expression shifted out of defense, my vigilance eased. "I know him. He's great. He was very kind to me when we first met."

She nodded, her splitting smile now ear-to-ear. The way she beamed with pride was authentic; it was warming to witness on a cold December night. "That sounds like him."

I extended a hand and returned her smile. "It's nice to meet you, Gabby."

"You, too!"

As she eagerly accepted my hand and shook it with a firm grip, I felt a sort of relief that she wasn't someone I knew. So far, she actually seemed to be one of the few who hadn't joined the war ravaging around us. I could hardly believe my luck.