Be careful, it has value.” Old, manicured fingers passed the book to long, dirt-marked hands.Īster ran her fingers over the cover, callused fingertips catching against the smooth brown leather. “There’s no need to look so passive, child,” chastised Grandmother. Schooling her face into a dutiful expression, she walked over and stood a foot and a half away from Grandmother, her hands clasped behind her back. “Aster, dear,” Grandmother called without looking up from the tome. The lady had a large, dense book in one hand-the other hand running tapered fingers over the soft binding. She was still in her early morning gown, which had more layers than Aster’s day clothes. Popington was getting on in years, but she still had a perfectly straight back, and the lines in her face only made her expression more regal and refined. A small window facing east bled sunlight over the gleaming dark wood, the deep shadows in the shelved walls untouched by the light. Grandmother was waiting in her expansive library, standing over the large desk table in the middle. Aster preferred her criticisms, which said a lot. Grandmother’s nostalgic moods were the worst-it made her even more cryptic and alien than usual. She held back a groan and nodded, starting her trek up the magnificent staircase. “Mistress Popington is in one of her nostalgic moods this morning, mind not to mention your mother or the town,” he whispered, his calm face barely portraying the concern he felt. He held it open for her and took her bag, granting her with a small smile. John, Grandmother’s manservant, was waiting dutifully by the door. She’d been in and out countless times-it no longer scared her. Aster ran forward onto the drive, taking no notice of the eerie clang of the gates shutting behind her.
There was a click and a five second pause before the gates slid open. Her breath made little plumes in the chilly air, and while she waited Aster imagined she was a dragon-a powerful one who caused fear in every knight and didn’t take orders from fussy old ladies. Grandmother had made it urgent for her to come, expecting her to come early morning right after the night she called-a few warm moments wasn’t worth the risk of her impatience. She’d sit in her car, but she couldn’t be a moment late after Grandmother heard of her arrival.
She huddled in her hoodie and stamped her feet as she waited. She pressed a finger against the speaker. Popington herself-the only person that came close was the mailman and he nearly had a heart-attack every time he scurried out of his van to the mail slot by the gate.Īster watched in wry amusement from the safety of her car as he darted back into his white van and drove off, his tires squealing against the concrete.Įarly morning entertainment zooming off into the distance, Aster reluctantly scrambled out of the warm vehicle and ran to the plate on the gate column. Aster and her mother were the only town people who ever entered it and the corresponding estate besides Mrs. It blocked out the first rosy strands of light, making the dawn later than it should be for the town that lay in the mansion’s shadow. The house on the hill was an old colonial mansion at the farthest edge of town. So while Aster knew that this was not going to end well for her, there was no other option.
Well, when Grandmother invites someone it’s usually less of an invitation and more of a stern summoning that bodes doom for those who decline. It started-as most terrifying things do in Aster’s life-with Grandmother’s invitation.
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