Page 42 of The Luminaries
“Sure,” Winnie replies—what else can she say?—and Rachel gives her another pat before walking away. Seconds later, the front door shuts. Winnie is left alone, cold hair still sopping.
“I got accostedtwicetoday,” Winnie tells her brother. He is on the opposite side of the kitchen island, chopping an onion with goggles on because of course Darian would have goggles just for chopping onions. They were his favorite gift from Andrew last Christmas, and Winnie has to admit that she almost wishes she had a pair of her own right now. It’s a really strong onion.
“What the heck is this locket?” Winnie lifts it toward him, and he briefly pauses his chopping to glance her way. Tonight, his skin gleams thanks to kitchen cooking steam and the relaxation of a daynotworking for Dryden Saturday.
“What do you mean? It’s a locket.”
“Well, Erica Thursday low-key accused you of stealing it from her, and then Aunt Rachel looked at it like it contained a nightmare inside.”
Darian recoils slightly, his face scrunching into a frown. “That’s really weird because as far as I know, it’s just a locket.”
“Where did you get it?”
“The attic.”
Winnie’s fingers clench around the golden circle. “Our attic?”
“Yeah.” He rushes his chopping.Clack-clack-clack.Tears burn anew in Winnie’s eyes. “I asked Mom if I could have it, she said yes, so I gotit cleaned up—it was so tarnished when I found it. Then I put the two photos in it… and yeah. That’s it.” He lifts the cutting board and heads for the pan of hot oil on the stove. Saturday is spaghetti night, always, and while Winnie and Darian grew up on jarred or canned everything, Andrew didnot.He insists they make most meals from scratch. Normally, he is here to help; tonight, he is in the loft at his desk studying.
The onions hit the pan, hissing like a basilisk.
“Whose locket was it?” Winnie asks once Darian is back before her—now to peel garlic. He still wears the goggles.
He also wears an apron that says,COOKING HARD OR HARDLY COOKING?, which he and Andrew think is hilarious, but Winnie doesn’t understand the joke. In fact, she’s pretty sure there is no joke.
“Mom didn’t know whose it was, so she said it was fine if I wanted it.”
“So it was probably Dad’s.” For some reason, as Winnie says this, her stomach flips. Dad is gone; anything he left behind should absolutely be used (or destroyed).
Darian pauses his peeling, and this time he removes the goggles so they hang around his neck. “Does that bother you? I… didn’t think it would. Listen, I’m sorry. I can get you a new—”
“No.” Winnie shoots up her hands, sliding off the stool as she does so. “No, it doesn’t bother me. Really.” Since she’s hurrying toward the pan—where the onions are definitely burning—she hopes Darian doesn’t notice her lie.
He totally notices. “I’m sorry, Win. I didn’t think… I mean, we don’t know it’s his for sure. Mom really doesn’t know who it belongs to.”
“Right,” Winnie says, grabbing a spatula. She is not a skilled enough cook to lift the pan and do the vegetable flippy thing. “But it’s probably Dad’s. That’s why Aunt Rachel looked like she’d seen a nightmare in the living room.” She stirs at the onions. A few are stuck to the cast iron because Andrew refuses to use thatcancer substance called Teflon.
“But if Mom doesn’t know that, then why would Rachel?” Darian reaches for the locket and slides it sideways on the chain, so he can study it while Winnie continues prying onions off the iron. He looks like a wild inventor, with the goggles at his neck and the apron and his attention on the locket.
She turns the burner to low and faces Darian. He releases the locket.“Erica Thursday said she used to have one like it, but it went missing. You don’t think it’s hers, do you?”
Darian blinks. “I mean… I sure hope not. I don’t know how it would have ended up in our attic. Did she say when it went missing?”
Winnie shakes her head.
And Darian sighs, a forlorn sound. “I’ll just get you a new one, okay? Then we can offer this one to her—”
“No.” Winnie smacks a hand to her collarbone, covering the locket. “I am not giving this to her. I like it. Really, I do. And it’s… it’s good luck. I passed the trial, right? Maybe this is the reason.” She is surprised how easily the lie rolls off her tongue. Maybe because shedidhave good luck that had to have come from somewhere.
Or maybe she’s just getting used to talking about the banshee. Either way, Darian doesn’t question her. If anything, he looks relieved—like he’d been worried she would want a new one. And now that she considers it, even with his promotion, there’s no way he could afford a locket made from real gold like this one.
“The onions are burning!” Andrew shouts from the loft. “I can smell it from up here!”
“No they aren’t!” Winnie squeaks at the same time Darian shouts, “Because I know that’s how you like them, sweetie!” Then he flashes Winnie a conspiratorial smile and gets back to peeling garlic.
Winnie resumes her stirring.
CHAPTER23
