Chapter 34
????????
Oh. Okay. So this has been happening. Got it.
Dearest darlingest Citrus,
I have received your plea, and I answer your cry for help.
Come hither at your earliest convenience.
With lemony love,
Ines
I haven’t entered Ines’s clothing store since I was checking off my greet the town boxes way, way back at the beginning of Spring. Even though it’s only the start of Autumn now, two seasons past still feel like a million years ago.
I have only lived in Gem Ridge for two seasons as long as the Februarys I once knew…yet it has been decades between now and then.
So much has happened.
And, if I’m right, so much more is about to happen, too.
Starting…today.
Within Ines’s shop, beautiful clothes adorn every wall, accessories filling every feasible nook and cranny.
Mannequin stands hosting casual attire create a circle on the side of the room opposite the checkout counter, and if I didn’t know better, I’d assume they were sacrificing the elegant black gown in the center—
No.
Actually.
Upon closer inspection, that’s totally what’s happening over there.
I guess I was far too nervous to notice the first time I was in here, but there’s absolutely some kind of ritual going on with that display.
If I know my in-game Ines and compare her to the insanity that is real-world Ines, I’d have to speculate that the display is a metaphor for all the creativity she’s forced to sacrifice given that the demand for frilly gowns in this town is actually quite remarkably low.
She has been forced to trade her pretty things in for practical wear.
Poetic.
I think I’ve just decided to ship her with Laumon.
Two poets. Perfect for each other.
“Darling.”
I jump out of my skin—caught in the act of shipping real people, not NPCs. Turning, I find Ines splayed against an archway that leads into a backroom.
Her teeth flash in a grin that appears, for a moment, almost fanged. “Tell me everything.”
Everything everything?
No, no. I can’t do that.
That is an awful lot, and I’m not ready to go there. Maybe I never will be ready to go there. Maybe everything everything will remain a secret that only Samson ever knows. But the secret I’m keeping from him…? Yeah. That’s a different story.
That’s what she’s talking about.
Because that’s what I wrote her about when I asked for help…
That’s her everything everything.
So I blurt, “I’m very badly in love with Samson.
I’d like to propose. Mimet scares me. The city scares me.
I don’t know how to get a circlet on my own.
” I suck in a breath, remembering a horrible addendum, and grafting in: “Also, I want to get married on the island off the coast, which means I need to coordinate building Laumon a whole boat. A-assuming Samson even wants to marry me…which he might not, but I won’t know unless I try, right?
And I can’t try without help, because I’m still very new to the concept of putting myself out there. ” Weepy, I sniffle. “Please help me?”
Ines stares into the dank cavities of my soul. She blinks her kohl-lined eyes once. Then she snorts. “Back up, preferably away from the island. Does Samson know you two are dating right now? He seemed quite oblivious to your feelings when I saw you both last.”
“Um.” Phew. “No, we aren’t dating right now, actually, so there’s nothing for him to know about that.”
“You’re not dating. You’re just skipping straight to a marriage proposal?”
I press my lips together and tangle my fingers.
When she puts it that way, it sounds very stupid.
I sound very stupid. And, yet… “Yes? I mean. I just… I love him. We already do everything together. Dating doesn’t feel like the next step.
I want to be with him forever. I want to get married.
S-so…I’m skipping straight to letting him know that. ”
“Excellent.” Hooking a finger at me, she whirls, sashaying into the back room. “I fully agree of course. Dating is so overrated. When you know, you know. Come.”
I trail after her into a den of fabrics laid out as chaotically as the book she brought to Samson’s house weeks ago. The color splashes distract me wholly before my attention finally settles on a mannequin taking up the center of the explosion.
White.
With hints of sunshine yellow.
My mouth drops open. “You… You weren’t joking?”
“About making you a wedding dress covered in tiny lace lemons?” She barks a laugh. “No. Of course I wasn’t. I’d never joke about something like that.”
Breathless, I inch toward the pooling fabric layered in abundant lace. “It’s actually covered in tiny lemons…”
“Yup.” She pops the “p.” “Big fan of your branding. Super cute. Speaking of, Autumn’s started, so I have a new set of clothes for you.
Samson ordered them when he stopped by…a few days ago…
for no important reason. The trick has been making lemons fit outside the expected Summer wear.
” Her gaze skims my overall dress, with my wonderful lemon pocket.
“Since Sammy seems to like skirts, I hope you don’t mind fleece-lined tights.
Fleece-lined tights are an integral part of your Autumn and Winter wardrobes.
What do you think about fleece-lined tights, Citrus? ”
I think I need to sit down.
Alas.
There are no chairs in this emporium of utter creativity.
“Tights are…fine.” I can’t drag my attention off the dress or its accompanying necklace of lemon charms. It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, and for the first time in a while, I’m convinced I’m dreaming again.
This can’t be happening.
This doesn’t happen to me.
People aren’t this kind or considerate with me.
They don’t spend their time making things so perfect for me.
“How…much will this cost?”
Ines tilts her head parallel with her shoulder. “How much does a dress I started making all by myself without any indication you wanted it cost?”
“Um.” I swallow. “Yes?”
She laughs. “Wouldn’t that be an incredible scheme?
I could break into houses, update closets all on my own, then put my bill in the mail.
You don’t suppose Lazul would send Pyro after me for that behavior, do you?
” Waving a hand, she chortles. “Silly Citrus. Obviously I’m not charging you for a passion project. ”
“But…” My mouth is going dry because I can’t seem to keep it closed.
Yesterday, Autumn 1st, I sent Ines a note, imploring her for a moment of her time in order to discuss something of utmost secrecy and importance concerning Samson.
She leapt on it overnight, replied within a day, and is now revealing she’s been on my team for longer than I knew.
We aren’t even friends. We’ve not done anything together.
She decided we were at six friendship hearts all on her own.
She must’ve thought I was ignoring girls’ days just like Aurelia did—before I sent letters apologizing for my incompetence.
I mean.
Haha.
Hello.
I’m incompetent!
Why would anyone do so much for an incompetent stranger?
“’Fraid there’s no buts about it, lovely.” She tuts. “Now, you said you need my help to get you a marriage circlet so you can propose? Do you know what kind you want? How many mounting slots? What you’ll adorn it with? Who will cut the gems for you?”
My back straightens. “Y-yes. I know which one I want. Samson and I looked at some in the city when we were there. There was one…” I look around at the chaos for a sheet of paper and something to write with.
I have no idea what isn’t in active use.
“…it was sharp, golden, with a diamond-shaped center.”
“Here.” She rips something that looked very important in half and hands me a pencil. “Can you sketch it?”
I squeak, “Uh. Yes.” I draw the design to the best of my memory. It looks like a scribble next to the ripped half of the dress sketch in the top corner of the page.
Ines whistles. “Oh, that suits him so well. Very kingly, yet also modest.”
I flush, breathing, “Yeah. He’s so…yeah.”
“Granite, girl, you are so far gone.”
My shoulders bunch. “I really am.” I manage a weak smile.
“I’m terrified I’ll lose what we have if I ask for more, but I need him to know that I adore him more every single day.
He is so…so deserving of being wanted, of feeling wanted.
I don’t know how I’ll phrase anything yet.
I’m not exactly the most eloquent speaker, but I want to believe that if he doesn’t want more, I can communicate that it’s okay, and I’m overjoyed just to be his friend and continue as we have been.
Is that stupid? Am I stupid? Is this going to catch on fire, leaving me surrounded by ashes in a pit of lifelong rejection? Oh, granite.”
“Whoa, there…” Ines soothes. “Please don’t have a panic attack in my scheming room. Do you need to sit down? Have a cupcake? Chrysa always has day-olds lying around.” She tosses a thumb over her shoulder. “I can be back with one in three minutes.”
My head shakes. “I’m…fine.”
“You are not looking fine, per se.”
I take a deep breath. “No? That’s super weird. You must be confusing the symptoms of a panic attack with my astigmatism.”
Ines smiles and nods. “Right. Yes. I can see that now. How silly of me.” Humming, she plants her hand at her chin. “You know what? I think for this to work the way you want it to, we’re gonna need to involve a few more people.”
“Huh?” My eyes go massive, which makes sense, because they’re what have the astigmatism, and I’m really feeling it now. In my chest. As my heart launches itself repeatedly into my ribs. “Like who?”
“Well, Laumon needs to know about the boat plans. Gabbro needs to build the boat. Lazul needs to prep the proper marriage paperwork and his wedding speech, since he’s the only one qualified to marry you two out here. Neptun and Chrysa will need time to plan the food.”
My flesh goes ice cold. “That’s…a lot of people.”
Ines says, “Well, what do you expect? We’re planning a wedding here. That’s a big project. It’ll take, like, the entire town to get it done.”
I swallow the sheer, ice-cold fear sticking in my throat. “I feel somewhat compelled to remind you that Samson has not yet accepted my proposal?”
“Oh, so you’re calling him an idiot?”
“What?”
She tosses her arms together. “Have you seen yourself? You’re an adorable, smitten little thing. If that man doesn’t accept your proposal, he’s a moron. I, for one, have more faith in him than that. I mean, come on, Citrus. It’s so obvious you love him with every mineral in you.”
I begin to lose feeling in my legs. “I-it’s obvious?”
“To everyone but him, don’t worry.”
I am worried at a level I have never been worried at before.
I did not know it was possible to attain new thresholds of worry at this depth.
You’d think living in Florida—a land perpetually victimized by natural disasters to such an extent the locals have only two seasons: Hades’s armpit and hurricane—would have worried me entirely dry.
Yet, all that said, the spark in Ines’s eye frightens me. More so when she smirks and says, “Oh yes, this is going to be fun.”