“I don’t exactly have a choice.” Except he did. But for whatever reason, he was unwilling to leave without Zosa. His eyes settled on the invitation. “If we make it inside and that thing allows you entrance, I’ll give you a trial run for a position.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’ll work for two weeks without pay, the same length as a guest’s stay. Prove to me you’re worthy to stay on and you will.”
“At ten dublonnes a week?”
“Five.”
Less than Zosa. But five was still more than I made now. “So you’ll control my fate?”
“Let me guess. You have a problem with that.”
“I don’t,” I forced out, even though the thought made my jaw clench. “So what if something happens?”
“You’ll be out of a job.” Meaning I’d be sent back here. Without pay and without Zosa. “It’s a very generous offer.”
“I’m sure it is.” Three years ago I’d walked into Tannerie Fréllac desperate for work. Because of my age, I’d been given a trial run that turned into a long-term position. Just like Bel was offering me. I could do this. I glanced up. “How can I trust you?” He could easily be lying.
“I’m extremely trustworthy.”
“I’m supposed to believe that?”
“Entirely up to you.”
I wished Maman were here. She would know what to do. “Swear it on your mother,” I said, thinking fast.
A pained look flashed across his face. “I don’t remember my mother.”
“Oh . . . Sorry,” I said, awkward, while my heart gave a little twist. I barely had any memories of my own father. My gaze dropped to his key. “Then swear it on your magic.”
“Fine. I swear on my magic I’ll give you a job. Now we’ll have to run if we want to make it on time.”
Right. I pictured me and Zosa stepping out of the hotel and into Aligney, returning home at last. Bel gave me an odd look when I giggled then slapped a hand over my mouth. I turned toward the stairwell and paused. If we ran, Zosa couldn’t keep up with us.
“You’ll have to carry her,” I said, and flew up the stairs. Bel followed at my heels. Seconds later, he swung Zosa over his shoulder like a sack of winter turnips. She blinked awake, bucking, until I whispered the plan.
“Who is he?” she mouthed, then wagged her eyebrows at his backside.
God. “Stop that.” I pinched her nose.
Bel looked between us.
“What is it?” I asked.
“You really wouldn’t have let me take her without you.” He sounded surprised.
“Like you said, irritatingly persistent.”
His mouth twitched as if holding back a smile. “Don’t drop the invitation until you’re through the front door.” He started down the hall.
Zosa’s sack still sat on the floor filled with Maman’s junk left over from her days as a music tutor. Those pearl earrings.
Then it hit me: Zosa would soon sing in front of a real audience, what she’d always wanted. All those years of scraping by were worth it after all.
In a few months we’d have enough saved to support us for years in Aligney. But we could travel with the hotel first, see some of the world. Everything felt too wonderful to be real.
“Would you hurry?” Bel shouted.
Footsteps creaked. Girls were waking up.
I hoisted Zosa’s spider-infested burlap and raced after the doorman carrying my sister.
Maman once told me that a true gift tends to make itself known. The year I turned eleven, I finally understood what she had meant.
Aligney’s Fête de la Moisson took place at the start of autumn. Grown-ups sipped vin de framboise under the stars and bartered their late summer crops, and Maman had her students perform to collect donations for the music school.
That year, Zosa had begged to sing at the fête. Not yet, ma petite pêche, Maman had scolded. You’re too young. But I’d thought my sister was good enough to earn some dublonnes and we wanted to buy this tin of butter caramels we’d spotted in a shop window. They were exquisite—wrapped in golden foil with little adventure stories tucked beneath each label. Determined to have them, I tied ribbons into Zosa’s hair and stole an apple crate from our cupboard. After sundown, we marched to the edge of town where the festival was held.
Everyone stood behind intricately painted stalls lit by flickering lanterns carved with fairytales. Embarrassed at our old crate, I almost turned around. But Zosa refused, and I had splinters from hauling that awful crate. I hadn’t wanted it to be for nothing.