Chapter 54: A Flurry of Petals and Kisses
Vivienne had barely slipped her arms back into the sleeves of her lavender blouse when the door burst open.
"Mère! Mèèèère!"
Tiny feet thundered across the hall tiles—Eva's voice, high and breathless with excitement, soared ahead of her. She didn't knock. She never knocked when she was this overjoyed, when her chest was full of something too wonderful to keep to herself. The lavender fabric of Vivienne's dress was already being tugged before she had the chance to stand properly.
"Mère!" Eva gasped again, eyes wide, curls bouncing like wild spring clouds. "Guess! Guess who talked to me today! Guess!"
Vivienne, who had just managed to sit down—deliberately—to give Evelyn time to fix her flushed expression, gave her best practiced smile. "Hmm… The moon? The garden? A talking squirrel?"
"Nooo," Eva said, bouncing from foot to foot. She was still pulling at Vivienne's skirt insistently, too giddy to register that the room felt… suspiciously quiet. She hadn't even seen her mother yet, sitting primly in the velvet armchair by the window.
Evelyn, for her part, was trying very hard to look composed. Her legs were crossed tightly, one hand resting on her lap, the other subtly brushing her lips, which were—just minutes ago—being thoroughly kissed. Her lipstick was slightly smudged, and her cheeks carried a distinct flush that hadn't come from the afternoon heat.
"Eva, sweetling," Vivienne said calmly, smoothing the girl's wild hair with practiced ease, "you've caused quite the entrance."
Eva was still too enchanted by her news to notice anything else. "It's Yue! She talked to me! My Ina! She said I can come back tomorrow! I have to go back tomorrow!"
That made Vivienne's brows rise delicately. "Oh?"
"She was under a big tree with a book, and I called her Yue, but then I said I'd call her Ina, and she smiled, Mère, she really smiled. I think she likes it. And she told me stories—about stars! And poems, and I read some too, but it was hard, but beautiful!"
She took a deep breath as if she'd been holding it the entire time. Then, spinning slightly on her heel, she finally noticed someone else in the room.
Her entire body jerked like a spring uncoiled.
"Manman!"
Eva stared at Evelyn as if she'd just appeared out of thin air, which, in her excitement, she practically had.
"Oh—I didn't—I didn't see—" She ducked her head, then cupped her warm cheeks with both hands as if to hide in them. "I'm—I'm hungry! Let's eat! Please, let's eat now!"
Vivienne's laughter came low and rich. "And just like that, our star-struck wanderer remembers the world turns."
Evelyn, recovering some of her composure, raised a brow and leaned her chin on her hand. "Did you forget I existed, ma chérie?"
Eva peeked at her between her fingers and gave a helpless little nod. "Only a little, Manman."
"Well," Vivienne said, rising with theatrical elegance and pressing a kiss to the top of Eva's head, "clearly, we must fuel this poet's heart with something more than stardust. Come, lunch awaits."
They moved to the sunroom dining nook, where delicate porcelain plates already waited beneath glass covers. It was a room made for light conversation and tea, soft cushions on every seat, with lavender-scented air drifting through the open windows. Eva climbed into her usual spot between her two mothers, still glowing like a candle that had just been lit.
As Vivienne served her a small bowl of lemon chicken risotto, she asked casually, "Now, tell me more about this mysterious Yue of yours."
Eva giggled behind her spoon. "She's not mysterious! She's Seraphina! But she's not like other girls. She doesn't talk like them. She talks like… like she has secrets in her voice. Like the garden listens when she speaks."
Evelyn paused mid-sip of her wine, her brow twitching up with amusement. "She sounds rather poetic."
"She is!" Eva said, glowing brighter. "She's more beautiful than the flowers. I told her that. The sun shines differently on her hair. And her eyes are like the sky before it rains—soft and sharp at the same time!"
Vivienne shared a meaningful glance with Evelyn over Eva's head. "The sky before it rains," she repeated, clearly delighted. "Where do you even get these images, darling?"
Eva wasn't listening. She had placed her spoon down and was now murmuring something under her breath. It took Vivienne a moment to realize it was Latin.
"Ignis in corde meo, candor in vultu eius…"
"Fire in my heart, brightness in her face…"
Vivienne blinked. Evelyn tilted her head, instantly recognizing the phrase.
Eva spoke a little louder, blushing fiercely even as she whispered:
"…et oculi eius, sicut lucernae vesperae."
"…and her eyes, like lanterns of the evening."
Vivienne leaned in, her voice mock-wary. "Did you just compose that?"
Eva nodded shyly, and then—horrified at her own boldness—took a big bite of risotto to hide her face. Her ears were burning red now.
Evelyn chuckled softly. "A poem in Latin for your Ina? I can't even be jealous. That's impressive."
Vivienne's tone turned sly. "You know," she said, setting down her wine glass, "when you were Eva's age, you were even more romantic. You'd demand kisses before naps. You used to pout, too. And you blushed, just like now."
Evelyn shot her a glare, but the color rising in her cheeks betrayed her.
Eva looked up from her plate, utterly serious. "Well, Mère is breathtaking, so I'm not surprised."
Evelyn blinked.
Vivienne burst into a smug smile, glancing at Evelyn with a soft nudge. In a whisper meant only for her, she said in French, "Tu entends ça? Je suis à couper le souffle, hmm?"
(Did you hear that? I'm breathtaking, hmm?)
Evelyn tried to hide her grin behind her glass.
Eva, meanwhile, was already off on another tangent. "I want kisses and hugs too. But fifteen! From each of you. Before nap time. That's the price for hearing my poem!"
Vivienne leaned toward her with exaggerated scandal. "Fifteen! That's daylight robbery."
"Twenty if you don't start now," Eva said with the solemn authority of someone who knew she had the upper hand.
Evelyn laughed into her napkin, dabbing her mouth. "She gets this from you."
"Hmm," Vivienne murmured. "She gets the poetry from me. The impossible standards from you."
Eva smirked. "And the beauty from both."
That earned a synchronized burst of laughter from both women. Eva beamed, pleased with herself, even as she finished the last spoonfuls of her meal.
As the plates were cleared and the afternoon sun began to slant more golden across the floor, Eva leaned into Vivienne's side. "Will you carry me to my bed?"
"Of course," Vivienne said, already rising with a grace that made it look effortless. "But not without our toll."
She bent and pressed a kiss to Eva's cheek. Then another. And another.
"One, two, three…" Eva counted, giggling.
Evelyn leaned in from the other side, trailing soft kisses behind Vivienne's. "Ten, eleven, twelve…"
At fifteen, Eva sighed dramatically. "Okay… now you, Manman."
And Evelyn gave her fifteen more.
As Vivienne carried her from the room, Eva, sleep beginning to drift into her lashes, whispered, "Maybe… maybe Ina will give me a kiss too. One day."
Vivienne smiled, brushing back her daughter's curls.
"I'm sure she will," she said softly.
Eva yawned. "But hers has to be sixteen…"
And then she was asleep in Vivienne's arms, her breath warm against her shoulder, dreaming—perhaps—of stars and sunlit auburn hair.