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Cackle(91)

Author:Rachel Harrison

“A surprise?”

“Yes,” she says. She looks down. “You brought Ralph?”

He’s climbing out of my pocket.

“Yeah,” I say. “He wanted a visit.”

She huffs. “Annie, it’s too cold for him to be outside. He’s not even wearing his hat.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “He wanted to come. How could I say no to that face?”

Ralph cocks his head to the side, either confounded by the lie or charmed by the compliment.

Sophie sighs, taking Ralph and setting him on her shoulder. “All right.”

“Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t realize how cold it was.”

“Oh, of course you didn’t, pet. I know you take good care of Ralph,” she says. “And he keeps eyes on you.”

What does that mean?

“Uh, yep,” I say. My nervous voice sounds exactly like a pubescent boy’s. It’s indistinguishable.

“Hurry,” she says. “I’m very excited about the surprise. I have absolutely no restraint. None. Come, darling.”

She starts skipping away from me.

“Coming, coming. I still can’t feel my toes.”

“I’ll thaw you out,” she says, turning toward me to reveal a devilish grin.

Impatient, she grabs my hand and drags me the rest of the way to a room I’ve never been in before. The walls are pale blue, and there’s a gold fireplace, a gold chandelier. Everything orbits around a beautiful grand piano. There’s also a massive gold harp in the corner, and I can see cobwebs on it from here. There are a few petite antique chairs scattered around. Sophie sits me down on one of the chairs and tells me to close my eyes.

“They’re closed,” I say.

“Don’t open them yet,” she says. “Not until I say.”

“I won’t.”

It’s quiet for a minute, except for the hostile crackling of the fire burning in the fireplace. I get whiffs of smoke, hints of heat.

“Sophie?” I say.

She doesn’t respond.

My immediate reaction is fear.

I was stupid to come here.

She’s more powerful than I am. I couldn’t hold my own against her if it came to that. I need to leave.

I open my eyes.

She stands in front of me smiling. She’s holding a guitar.

“Surprise!” she says, presenting it to me.

I’m an asshole. Here she is being thoughtful and generous, and here I am scheming about how I can get away from her. Did I let Oskar get in to my head, let his hostility tarnish my perception of her? He doesn’t know Sophie like I do. I have no reason to fear her.

Well, I mean, except I kind of do . . .

“You like it?” she asks.

“Yes,” I say, taking the guitar. It’s beautiful. “This is . . . too much. I don’t deserve this.”

“Nonsense,” she says. “And it’s just as much for me as it is for you. I told you, you have to play for me.”

“This is so nice, Sophie. Too nice. Really. You’re too good to me.”

“I want you to focus on your own gifts. Your talents. I want you to continue to feed yourself,” she says, pushing a stray hair out of my face. “When I met you, you were starving.”

“Is that why you made me pie?”

She laughs. “No. The pie was because I wanted pie. It was selfish pie. Feeding myself.”

“You shared with me.”

“Only because I really like you, Annie. I don’t go around sharing my pie with everyone.”

“This sounds super sexual,” I say.

She gasps. “Oh, dear!”

I forgot Sophie can be scandalized. I forgot how old she is. I stifle a giggle.

“Don’t laugh at me,” she says, fake pouting.

“Sharing pie with everyone.”

“Stop!”

“Okay, okay,” I say. “Sorry.”

“This is the thanks I get,” she says, “relentless teasing.”

“No, I’m sorry. I’m very grateful for the gift. This really is a beautiful guitar.”

She sits in the chair across from me, tucking one ankle under the other. Ralph settles in her lap.

“Play something for me, pet.”

“I’m rusty,” I tell her. “Out of practice.”

“I don’t mind.”

“Let me practice first. I’ll be too embarrassed otherwise.”

“Don’t be. It’s just me.”

“I know. I want it to be good. Put on a proper concert.”

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