Page 100 of Cashmere Ruin

Because she asked me to.

“And this is her favorite toy, so if she starts crying?—”

“April,” Elias’s booming voice laughs, “relax. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

“Sorry,” April sighs. “I’m just nervous. I’ve never really left her with anyone. Even with June or Petra, I was always in the next room, so…”

Elias pats her on the shoulder. If anybody else dared get so familiar, I’d be snapping the offending limb in half. That said, it’s a little hard even for me to be jealous of an octogenarian. And besides, Elias isn’t just her boss; he’s her family.

“Go get your dress,” he says in that thick New Orleans accent of his. “I’ll keep the young lady occupied.”

With an apprehensive nod, April disappears into the bedroom, leaving us alone.

Awkward silence reigns. For the first time, I find myself wishing May would throw a tantrum just to give me something to do. But whatever advice that therapist has been giving April, it’s been working: the baby is significantly less nervous now.

Elias starts humming a tune under his breath. May giggles at the unexpected music. Even the cat seems somewhat relaxed around the old man.

I clear my throat. “You said this isn’t your first rodeo. I assume that means you’ve had experience?”

“Mhmm. Three nephews and seven nieces.”

“You have siblings, then?”

“Five. I was the eldest. Helped rear the whole bunch of ‘em.”

Five siblings.I can’t even picture that. “April never mentioned it.”

“Oh, don’t hold it against her. They’re all away now. I barely mention them myself. Canada, Sweden—all those cold places with much warmer policies.”

“So you’re alone.” I cringe at myself. That didn’t come out like I wanted.

But Elias doesn’t seem offended. His eyes crinkle at the corners, the faint hint of a smile on his thin, cracked lips. “I have a very good apprentice.”

It makes me uncomfortable—the warmth he says it with. Like he considers April a part of his family, too, just as she considers him a part of hers.

“That’s why you suggested the contest?” I say, if only to change the subject.

“Well, yes. And because I believe she’s made for bigger things than a quaint little tailor’s shop.”

“I don’t get it.” I blurt the words out without even thinking.

The old man’s face doesn’t change. “You don’t think she can win?”

“I know she can win. What I don’t understand is why she needs to.”

“My boy! Surely you know the Mallard isn’t cheap?”

“I’m not cheap, either. If she’d asked, I would’ve taken care of it.”

“Ah, but it’s not that simple, is it?” he tuts.

I frown. “Of course it is.”

“For you, perhaps. But for April?” He shakes his head, but the smile stays on—fond and proud and just a little bit sad. “She’s had to fight tooth and nail all her life. That’s the only way she knows how to get things.”

“But I’m here now,” I counter.

“Yes, but for how long?”

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