Andrej noticed. “You find that idea amusing?” He stepped closer to her.
Turning pink, Aishe demurred but said nothing. Her people had not traded these exotic cards. She had seen only one of these decks in her life, the one in Dinka’s chest.
Andrej’s gaze swept over her red hair and delicate features. “Would you play for me once more? I have never heard such beautiful music.”
Aishe nodded shyly and began to play a soulful Rom melody, one of Simza’s favorites, a tune called “Find Me in the Wind.”
As Aishe played, Court de Gébelin became even more certain he’d made a miraculous discovery, and he announced that he would write about the cards in his next volume of essays. The essays would start a wildfire that would soon burn through Paris and into Europe and beyond.
That day in Mme Helvétius’ salon, two stars collided. Antoine Court de Gébelin met my descendent, and the future of fortune telling was born.
Message to VS—
Interesting call from Beinecke.
Reply from VS—
Excellent. Notify me when back in NY.
She should have them by then.
Temperance
Semele could almost hear the harp playing, the scene was so vivid in her mind. She had rushed to translate Aishe’s story but was unable to finish before it was time to head to her mother’s. As she rode in the cab, she wondered what happened to Aishe after Mme Helvétius’ salon. Had she stayed in Paris? And what happened to the cards in Dinka’s chest?
The cab turned down her street, interrupting her thoughts. They arrived at a two-story turn-of-the-century classic New England home in East Rock near Yale. The house had been a constant in Semele’s life. Over the years, her parents had lovingly renovated every room and painted the outside powder blue. The color only made the house, with its wraparound porch and original woodwork, more picturesque.
The porch light turned on and Helen came outside.
Semele couldn’t help the sinking feeling in her chest. She still wasn’t ready.
Her mother hurried to the curb before Semele could shut the door. “It’s so good to see you,” she said, giving Semele a hesitant squeeze, unsure if her embrace would be welcome.
Semele hugged her back. “You too,” she said automatically.
Like Semele, Helen was petite in stature and wore her hair pixie short. She always dressed in linen pants and flowing batik blouses that made her look as if she were on vacation somewhere fabulous like Morocco. But tonight her colorful blouse and pristine makeup couldn’t hide the strain in her eyes. She looked thinner and more fragile than the last time Semele had seen her, which made Semele’s guilt return tenfold. She had abandoned her mother in her most desperate time of need.
Helen watched the cab drive off. “What, no bags?”
“I figured I’d wear whatever is here,” Semele lied. She had no clue what clothes she had in her old room.
Her mother assessed her. “You look exhausted.”
“Just a little tired.”
They headed up the brick walkway. Once inside, Helen made a beeline for the kitchen. “I hope you don’t mind chicken,” she said, as if Semele had come home for their usual dinner and they hadn’t been estranged for months.
“Sounds great.” Semele grimaced internally. Baked lemon chicken was her mother’s go-to. She always paired it with warmed spinach salad and quinoa.
“I invited Macy to join us,” Helen called out.
“Oh.” Semele wasn’t sure how she felt about that. Macy was one of her oldest friends. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see her, but now the whole dynamic would change. Macy knew all about the drama with her mother and had been urging Semele to patch things up.
“I thought it’d make tonight more festive, a real homecoming.” Helen flitted into the dining room to light a votive candle. Semele noticed that the old wooden high chair had been brought down from the attic; apparently Macy’s toddler would be here tonight too. Forester would probably be as cranky as last time, which meant dinner would involve a lot of buttered noodles on the floor.
Semele went to open a bottle of wine.
“Not that one, honey.” Helen took the bottle away and handed her another. “I thought tonight we could open this one.”
Semele saw the label. It was her father’s favorite sauvignon blanc from a boutique winery in Napa. They’d bought a case on their last trip, and Semele knew this was the last bottle. “We don’t have to open it,” she said quickly, trying not to get emotional.
“No, I want to.” Helen uncorked the wine with nervous hands and poured them each a glass. They stood at the dining nook like strangers at a cocktail party. “How’s work?” Helen smiled.
“Busy. I’ve been dealing with a special collection from Switzerland.” She didn’t say that she’d been taken off the account or that the prize manuscript had been stolen. “I may go to Beijing next.”
“Ooh, that sounds fun.” Helen headed off to the kitchen again. “Let me check on the chicken.”
“I’m translating a manuscript from Greek,” Semele called out, not wanting to follow her.
“That’s wonderful!” Helen’s reply sounded overly cheerful.
Semele rolled her eyes, now completely regretting this visit. She didn’t know where to put her anger. Nothing had changed.
The doorbell rang. Semele barely had time to open it before Macy blew inside, juggling a diaper bag full of toys and a bottle of wine. Forester was almost two now and sat perched on her hip like a koala bear. Somehow Macy made it all look effortless.
“Oh my God! I’m so glad you’re here.” Macy managed to give her a huge hug.
Her long hair was wrapped and knotted in a scarf that matched her peasant skirt. She smelled like sandalwood oil, and a dozen more freckles had appeared on her face since the last time Semele had seen her.
Macy lowered her voice. “Sorry. Your mom wanted me to be here. I think she was really stressed out about tonight.”
Semele nodded as if she understood. It was surreal to think that her mother needed the moral support of her best friend in order to see her again.
“Is that Macy?”
Within seconds Helen had the baby blanket spread out on the living room floor and Forester playing with his toys, while Macy helped herself to a glass of wine. Semele felt a tug of jealousy. She couldn’t help wondering if Macy and Forester came over here a lot.
“How are you?” Macy asked. “How’s Bren? I haven’t talked to you in ages!”
“I know. I’ve been busy on the road.” Before Semele could say more, Helen shuttled them to the table and started bringing out the dishes.