“Your father will meet us after the salon,” she said. “The car will be ready in thirty minutes.”
If everyone in this house wanted to bury answers under dark wood and expensive luggage, she could play too.
She turned back to the clothing rack and pulled out the simplest black dress she could find.
One assistant stepped forward. “Miss Olsen, Madam Elara selected the ivory resort dress for your arrival photographs.”
Rosette held up the black dress.
“I’m mourning my freedom.”
The assistant looked horrified.
Elara covered her face with one hand.
Garette suddenly found the balcony very interesting.
Rosette smiled for the first time that day.
It was not happiness.
It was armor.