35: Mirrors, Mirrors, On the Wall

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"Hope, I thought I told you to put the cat down," said Owen as we walked down the street. "It's not yours."

"But he is so cute," I said pressing my face against the cat's fur. It purred and rubbed its fuzzy cheeks against mine. "And besides, Vanessa said he is a stray. So I'm going to take care of him while we are stuck here." Owen rolled his eyes. "I love love cats!"

"Fine," said Owen. "Just keep him away from me."

"Follow closely now you two," said Vanessa twirling on the spot

We spent the next few minutes following Vanessa through town. She made certain to hop joyfully on every stone wall and dance in every doorway. Her commendable energy made me exhausted. Surely no such person could possess such excitement about such unexciting things, but I was proved wrong. Soon we entered the town square. A large stage was being built in the center. The repetitive banging of hammers echoed across the cobblestone courtyard. Vanessa explained the stage was for a last minute addition to the festival, one she was greatly anticipating. She grabbed my sleeve and yanked me down a side street. Owen had trouble keeping up. His attention seemed distracted, and a look of uncertainty filled his gaze.

"Hope," he whispered into my ear as Vanessa swung around a lamp pole. "I've been around these parts many times and never once have I heard or seen this town on any maps. I can't shake this feeling that we are in danger."

"Just relax," I said as Vanessa skipped under a stone archway. "Let's have some fun while we are here. Maybe we can treat ourselves to a nice soft bed and a warm bath. You did say you would do anything for a soft bed."

"If you say so," he said exhaling a deep breath. "But we leave first thing in the morning."

Vanessa pointed to a series of buildings.

"So here is the salon. Maxwell inside does the best hair in town. And over there is the bakery. Their sourdough is to die for. Oh, and there is the pastry and sweet shop. You have got to try their red velvet cake. That home over by the fruit stand is where Lord Reginald Blackwell lives. He's so handsome! He runs the town militia, you know. Since not much crime happens his militia mainly acts as a task force in repairing broken parts of town and setting up for events, such as the Rose Festival. It's why everyone is wearing red today." Sure enough each person we passed had on either a red suit or a red dress or in Vanessa's case, a red hood. "Oh and did I mention he is single!" Vanessa sighed. "Someday, some lucky woman will marry Lord Blackwell. He has never really paid much attention to me, but tonight everything about that will change."

"How so?" I asked petting the cat in my arms.

"He is coming to dinner to discuss the festivities. I am so excited. I'll make my move then. Woo him with my charms. Ah, I can see it now, Mrs. Vanessa Blackwell."

"You keep mentioning the Rose Festival," said Owen as he followed behind Vanessa. "I am afraid I have never heard of such an event."

"That's because you are outsiders," said Vanessa twirling her hands. "It's our town's own tradition. No one else celebrates it. It's an amazing day when everyone dresses their best and tosses rose petals in the air to celebrate peace and beauty. We have fire jugglers and dancers and a glorious feast."

"Do the roses talk?" I asked suddenly. "Because I would not like to pluck a talking rose."

"No, silly," said Vanessa laughing. "Flowers can't talk."

"But Hollyhocks do. They sing and hum. I heard that roses tell only lies."

"Hope, even I know that flowers don't talk." Owen gave me a puzzled look. "You must have imagined it."

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