Page 66 of The Sin

Mom kept shooting me concerned looks, but she didn’t say anything until she brought two plates of risotto to the table and sat across from me. “What’s going on, Georga? You look like you’ve got a million worries on your mind.”

Only one, but it could go head-to-head with that million worries, easily.Do I say something or not?And did Mom really need to hear, right here, right now, or was it me that needed her to hear?

Then I remembered what Mom had said when I’d asked about Jessie. I’d wanted to know if my best friend was also in the Sisterhood, and even though I’d graduated, Mom still wouldn’t say.

It’s not that I don’t trust you. Right now, there’s another mother having this same conversation with her daughter. This is how she keeps her daughter safe, and this is how I keep you safe. The slightest rumor that the Sisters of Capra even exist would send the Guard on a witch hunt.

The Sisterhood didn’t just operate in the shadows, they operated in a total blackout. I’d always struggled with that, but my mother never had.

That was my answer, then.

I searched for something else to give her, and I didn’t have to dig too deep. “Roman and I are attending the Foundation Ball on Friday.”

“The actual ball?” she asked for clarification, because everyone usually referred to the anniversary festival as the Foundation Ball.

I nodded. “Julian Edgar invited us.”

Her eyes lit up. “That’s wonderful, darling.”

I would have preferred to be with my friends. We usually started at the fair in the town square and then progressed to the street carnival held on the pavilion in the Bohemian Quarter. But Mom’s ambitions for me had always reached way higher than mine.

She clapped her hands together. “I’m so proud of you, Georga. What gown will you be wearing? Tell me every little detail.”

“I planned to wear my graduation gown, but Brenda—” I rolled my eyes “—insists that would be the social faux pas of the century.”

A look of horror passed over Mom’s face. “Your graduation was only a few months ago. Everyone will remember. What will people think?”

“Nothing.” I shrugged. I’d brought this topic up as a distraction, not to get a lecture, or a solution. “I doubt anyone really noticed me or my gown, and definitely not the same people who’ll be attending the ball.”

“Your husband will notice.”

Oh, Roman would definitely notice, and not in a bad way. These days, he seemed to notice every little thing about me, what I wore, what I didn’t wear, my smile, the dusting of freckles on the top of my shoulders.

I shrugged. “Well, there’s nothing I can do about it now. Friday is only two days away.”

“Mr. Burnier would throw a fainting fit if you suggested he could whip up a gown in two days,” Mom agreed with an irritable sigh. “Besides, the man is likely already inundated with commissions for the Foundation Ball.”

She considered me with an arched brow, her eyes brightening as some plan formulated in her head. “I have an idea.”

“It’s really okay, Mom.”

She wasn’t listening. “I still have my old graduation gown packed away. Perhaps we can do something with that.”

This wasn’t going to end well. Mom was all frills and lace. I was a jeans and hoodie kind of girl, and—when I absolutely had no choice—a sleek, seamless line and satin kind of girl.

Once we’d eaten, Mom dragged me upstairs to her bedroom. I plopped down on the bed while she rummaged through her wardrobe. The nightmare she brought out was about as bad as I’d feared.

The color was okay, a pale champagne that was closer to white than beige. It was the puffed sleeves and the bows and the chiffon poufs that nauseated me. The bodice was square, cut quite low, but with something that resembled a delicate chiffon shawl stitched to it that covered the shoulders.

I managed to keep my expression blank, but the eyes are windows to the soul and this dress was destroying mine.

Mom’s gaze met mine and her lips twitched. “Would you believe this was incredibly fashionable back when I graduated?”

“No,” I said dryly. “That’s just all you, Mom.”

She chuckled, turning her attention back to the gown. “I still have your measurements for the alterations. I’ll see what I can do with this before Friday.”

Mom had made my graduation gown, of course. She was an excellent seamstress and she had a creative eye. But this gown looked like a chiffon ballerina had vomited up lace bows.

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