The Girl from Everywhere by Heidi Heilig

The Girl from Everywhere by Heidi Heilig

Author:Heidi Heilig [Heilig, Heidi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: ARC
ISBN: 9780062426178
Publisher: Greenwillow Books
Published: 2016-02-16T08:00:00+00:00


UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

HarperCollins Publishers

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The next day, true to his word, Mr. D sent a carriage to meet us—a barouche, to be specific, all polished black lacquer and rich scarlet velvet, topped with a rigid canopy, the sides left open to the breeze. Nevertheless, the seats gave off a musty smell; in the constant humidity of the Hawaiian Islands, velvet was never the rational choice. Mr. D, however, was nowhere to be seen; the driver told us he meant to meet us at the party.

The Merciers had sent their delivery on Saturday, and I’d chosen to wear the striped silk dress with the “modified bustle,” which took the form of a giant pink bow below the small of my back. I had regarded it with great suspicion in the mirror, especially when I noticed Kashmir seemed to find it humorous.

“I feel gift wrapped,” I had said to him.

“As long as we still have the receipt,” he’d replied.

He nudged me now—as he had twice already—reminding me to sit forward in the carriage. I perched on the edge of my seat so as not to crush the taffeta. Kash had dressed impeccably, with a closely tailored sack coat, buttoned only at the top, the bottom open to display his vest and the gold chain of a pocket watch. He’d slicked down his thick black curls, and sitting this close to him, I caught a hint of some sort of cologne, like honey and leather and ambergris.

Slate had put on a frock coat and a stylish ribbon necktie, but his manic energy was barely hidden beneath his proper exterior; it welled up like the spring in the woods. He fidgeted uneasily as we crept through town, one knee bouncing madly as he peered out the window.

It had been nearly a week since I’d spend this much time with either of them, but the silence was thicker than the funk of the moldering velvet; I couldn’t speak plainly to Kashmir in front of Slate, not about the map. Kash patted my leg then, gently but firmly; I’d been jigging it up and down in rhythm with my father.

I looked into Kashmir’s eyes and found reassurance there. I gave him a grateful smile and let myself relax, then sat up quickly as I remembered about the bow.

The carriage had arrived at the Temptation about an hour after sundown, and it took us another half hour to get to the edge of town. Nu’uanu Street was even more crowded than usual, and the revelry did not end there. Once we moved beyond the laughter and shouting near the docks, the sound of brass music brightened the dusk—one of the concerts Blake had mentioned. Bee was likely there; Rotgut was on dog watch tonight, and Ayen had demanded a night out.

We rolled past late-night picnickers, groups heading toward the beach in their bathing costumes, young men and women on horseback enjoying a night ride, and a plein-air performance of what appeared to be a comedy (at least, the audience was laughing).



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