again. Her native optimism bubbled slowly back to the surface, and with a growing sense of new beginnings, she stepped back into the house and closed the door.
Humming to herself, she bounced into the kitchen andopened the refrigerator. Lali had told her last night to make herself at home in the kitchen, since her mother, Renata, didn’t do breakfast.
“A morning person, are you?”
Grace shrieked and dropped a container of yogurt, its white innards splattering on the terra-cotta floor. “Aunt Sophia! I didn’t expect anyone to be up so early.” Grace grabbed a towel off the counter and swabbed up the yogurt.
“It’s grossly unfair that at my age, one tires easily but sleeps hardly at all.”
Sophia was sitting in the large breakfast nook at the end of the kitchen, the bay window behind her providing an elegant backdrop of green garden. A plate of toast and a coffee mug sat on the table.
“I’m not always awake so early,” Grace said, rinsing the towel in the sink. “I had to see Catherine off.”
“I take it by your good mood that you were not sorry to see her go.”
Grace shrugged, unwilling to voice anything near the complicated truth.
“You’ll both be better for the separation. She can hate me now, instead of you.”
“So you were doing me a favor,” Grace said in disbelief.
“Yes, I do see it that way. Fetch your breakfast and come sit with me. I have something I want to discuss.”
God help her, she hoped it wasn’t another “favor.” A fresh bowl of yogurt and fruit in hand, and a mug of coffee from the pot, Grace slid onto the banquette across from Sophia. Her aunt’s hair and makeup were as perfect as if she’d never gone to bed, even though she wore a silk floral robe and Grace could see the collar of apricot silk pajamas. Grace’s oversize T-shirt and chenille robe felt ratty in comparison, and she hadn’t combed her hairsince showering. Even her bowl of yogurt looked unkempt next to Sophia’s neat, dry toast.
“I’ve been thinking about your fascinating thesis on the emotional effects of beauty on women, and it occurred to me that I can help you gain a deeper understanding of it.”
“You’ll tell me of your own experiences as a beauty, and the troubles it brought? Wonderful! I’d been hoping you might!”
Sophia took a sip of coffee. “That wasn’t quite what I had in mind.”
“Oh. Er. Ah, I didn’t mean to imply that you were obviously miserable, or anything.”
“How fortunate for me that the Botox hides so much,” she said drily. “No, my thought was that while you are yourself a beautiful young lady, it is a beauty that to most people lies obscured by your slumping posture, your fidgeting, your lack of fashion sense, and your general air of slovenliness. It’s obvious that you have neither seen yourself as a beautiful girl, nor have you wished others to see you that way.”
Grace’s cheeks flamed. “That’s not true; of course I want people to think I’m reasonably attractive. It’s human nature. What I don’t have is a need for people to see me as the prettiest girl in the room, and I don’t ever want to be seen as sexy.”
“Ohh . . . ,” Sophia moaned, and for a moment Grace thought she was going to faint. “Heavens, dear, why ever not?”
“I want people to see me —the real me, not just the surface. I don’t want to be treated as an object.” Declan flashed to mind. “I want them to focus on who I am .”
“But, darling, who is going to want to get to know a schlumpy girl who walks around with a fish on her T-shirt?”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Of course I am.”
“Well, I think I’m more approachable when I’m dressedcasually. People are afraid to talk to overgroomed women. They think they’re self-centered and shallow.” Grace couldn’t help a glance at Sophia’s tailored robe.
“You can be beautiful and well-groomed and still approachable. In fact, you can be the most stunning woman in a room and also be the
Humming to herself, she bounced into the kitchen andopened the refrigerator. Lali had told her last night to make herself at home in the kitchen, since her mother, Renata, didn’t do breakfast.
“A morning person, are you?”
Grace shrieked and dropped a container of yogurt, its white innards splattering on the terra-cotta floor. “Aunt Sophia! I didn’t expect anyone to be up so early.” Grace grabbed a towel off the counter and swabbed up the yogurt.
“It’s grossly unfair that at my age, one tires easily but sleeps hardly at all.”
Sophia was sitting in the large breakfast nook at the end of the kitchen, the bay window behind her providing an elegant backdrop of green garden. A plate of toast and a coffee mug sat on the table.
“I’m not always awake so early,” Grace said, rinsing the towel in the sink. “I had to see Catherine off.”
“I take it by your good mood that you were not sorry to see her go.”
Grace shrugged, unwilling to voice anything near the complicated truth.
“You’ll both be better for the separation. She can hate me now, instead of you.”
“So you were doing me a favor,” Grace said in disbelief.
“Yes, I do see it that way. Fetch your breakfast and come sit with me. I have something I want to discuss.”
God help her, she hoped it wasn’t another “favor.” A fresh bowl of yogurt and fruit in hand, and a mug of coffee from the pot, Grace slid onto the banquette across from Sophia. Her aunt’s hair and makeup were as perfect as if she’d never gone to bed, even though she wore a silk floral robe and Grace could see the collar of apricot silk pajamas. Grace’s oversize T-shirt and chenille robe felt ratty in comparison, and she hadn’t combed her hairsince showering. Even her bowl of yogurt looked unkempt next to Sophia’s neat, dry toast.
“I’ve been thinking about your fascinating thesis on the emotional effects of beauty on women, and it occurred to me that I can help you gain a deeper understanding of it.”
“You’ll tell me of your own experiences as a beauty, and the troubles it brought? Wonderful! I’d been hoping you might!”
Sophia took a sip of coffee. “That wasn’t quite what I had in mind.”
“Oh. Er. Ah, I didn’t mean to imply that you were obviously miserable, or anything.”
“How fortunate for me that the Botox hides so much,” she said drily. “No, my thought was that while you are yourself a beautiful young lady, it is a beauty that to most people lies obscured by your slumping posture, your fidgeting, your lack of fashion sense, and your general air of slovenliness. It’s obvious that you have neither seen yourself as a beautiful girl, nor have you wished others to see you that way.”
Grace’s cheeks flamed. “That’s not true; of course I want people to think I’m reasonably attractive. It’s human nature. What I don’t have is a need for people to see me as the prettiest girl in the room, and I don’t ever want to be seen as sexy.”
“Ohh . . . ,” Sophia moaned, and for a moment Grace thought she was going to faint. “Heavens, dear, why ever not?”
“I want people to see me —the real me, not just the surface. I don’t want to be treated as an object.” Declan flashed to mind. “I want them to focus on who I am .”
“But, darling, who is going to want to get to know a schlumpy girl who walks around with a fish on her T-shirt?”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Of course I am.”
“Well, I think I’m more approachable when I’m dressedcasually. People are afraid to talk to overgroomed women. They think they’re self-centered and shallow.” Grace couldn’t help a glance at Sophia’s tailored robe.
“You can be beautiful and well-groomed and still approachable. In fact, you can be the most stunning woman in a room and also be the
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