Bri started to answer, but Agnes cut her off.
“I thought you were going to Gerard’s tonight. Wait a minute.” Agnes narrowed her eyes, brandishing the bat. “Did he hurt you?”
It was too much. The sight of Agnes, alien-green, holding a bat in her thin-as-spaghetti arms as if she could actually wield it against someone did Bri in. She started to giggle. Then the giggle turned into a cough, then into a hysterical guffaw, then a wailing sob. She choked, and tears streamed down her face.
“Oh dear.” Mabel put her arm around Bri’s shoulder and guided her toward the couch. “Sit down. Agnes, get her some water.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. When someone is upset, you offer a hot beverage.” Agnes leaned the bat into the foyer closet and shut the door. “I’ll put on the teakettle.”
Mabel sat next to Bri on the couch and picked up her hand. “You’re freezing.” She grabbed the crocheted afghan from the back of the floral-patterned couch and draped it around Bri’s shoulders. “There.”
Bri gripped the blanket with both hands, the warmth soaking into her back and soothing the burst of hysteria. She hated how scattered her emotions had been lately. Mabel and Agnes had always been steady and constant in her life—she owed it to them to return the favor. She wasn’t a hormonal teenager anymore.
But something about Gerard made her feel like a high schooler with a crush—out of control, uncertain, and slightly desperate. Was that love? If so, maybe she was better off forgetting about it. Forgetting about Gerard altogether and focusing solely on the Puff. Maybe they could expand the menu this spring and find a way to branch into national sales. That would bring in a lot of extra profit, if the shipping could be factored in cheaply enough. She could even create a website and a whole new marketing plan.
Feeling better now that she had a new goal, Bri snuggled deeper into the blanket. “I’m sorry I scared you two.”
“Don’t be silly.” Mabel waved her hand to dismiss the thought. “We don’t frighten easily. Agnes just likes an excuse to wave that ridiculous Loony Toon Sluggard around.”
Bri wiped under her eyes, checking her finger for mascara streaks. Then Mabel’s words registered. “Loony Toon what?”
“She means Louisville Slugger.” Agnes appeared with a mug, the tea bag string dangling over the side. She handed it to Bri before taking a seat on the adjacent armchair. “And that is why Mabel never played sports a day in her life.”
“I preferred to cheer for the handsome players instead.” Mabel wiggled her eyebrows at Bri. “And they enjoyed my cheering for them, trust me.”
Agnes pursed her lips. “I believe Bri came to us, Mabel. We should hear what she has to say.”
“She’s just jealous.” Mabel elbowed Bri in the side. “Pay no mind.”
Bri sipped her tea—green, with a touch of honey—and relished the familiarity of this moment. Their bickering was one of the more comforting elements in her life—it reminded her that some things really didn’t change. She took a calming breath. “I feel better already, just listening to you guys.”
“Is that so? Maybe we should start a counseling service on the side, along with the matchmaking.” Mabel tapped her chin. “Instead of the love angels, we could be the wise old owls.”
“Poppycock.” Agnes crossed one flannel pant–covered leg over the other. “You’re not so much wise as you are lucky.”
“Sure I am.” Mabel cinched her robe belt tighter and squared her shoulders. “I’m wise enough to know why Bri’s here. Duh.” She stuck her tongue out at her sister.
Agnes’s slipper-clad foot bounced a rhythm. “She doesn’t know yet. We haven’t told anyone.”
Bri frowned. “Told anyone what?”
Mabel’s face whitened. “About the Puff.” Her voice shrank a size. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”
Bri shook her head. “I came to tell you that Gerard is leaving—and we got into a big fight.” Her stomach clenched as she set her mug on the end table. “What about the Puff?”
“Oh no.” Mabel reached toward Bri. “I didn’t know, I just assumed—”
“You know what happens when you assume, Mabel.” Agnes stood up, glowering. “Now you’ve upset her again, and we’re out of tea.”
“Thank you, but I don’t want any more tea.” Bri sat up, tossing the blanket onto the couch. She asked again. “What about the Puff?”
The sisters stared at her, the answer evident in their gaze. A rock settled into her gut, paralyzing her. She tried to swallow and couldn’t. No.
“It’s for the best, sweetheart.” Mabel touched her shoulder.
“How? How can it be best? Best for who?” Bri jumped up. Her legs trembled and the room tilted. She didn’t want to fall apart in front of them. Didn’t want to make them feel guilty. But she couldn’t stop the storm brewing in her chest. First her parents . . . then Gerard . . . now the Puff.
She was going to be sick. “I have to go.”
“Oh no. She’s mad.” Mabel wrung her hands. “This didn’t go the way I’d planned.”
“No, I’m not mad. I’m just . . .” Unshed tears ballooned inside and begged for release. She didn’t want to hurt them, but she couldn’t believe it. They’d betrayed her too. Why didn’t anyone care about what she cared about? Why did everything have to change at once?
It was too much. She wanted to hide. Wanted to feel safe. She wanted to go home. But that was the Puff, wasn’t it?
Her home was going to be demolished—along with the last remaining pieces of her mother’s pedestal.
Bri sat surrounded by tissues and Coke cans and stared at the plane ticket in her shopping cart, her mouse hovering over the “complete purchase” button. Paris was almost hers. Her mouth dried, and her finger trembled. What did she have to lose?
Nothing. She’d already lost it.
She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. Just click it. She should go. Prove Gerard wrong—show him that she’d love the authentic City of Light, and that she didn’t need a man by her side to appreciate
