Chapter 26 Ris
Ris
As the intricate gate swung slowly open before her, bidding her entrance, Ris understood what was meant by “Cevanore started with a house.”
The house was still there. Long and white, not quite a mansion, not quite a country home, the stone edifice rambled in a way buildings rarely did anymore, owing its masonry to a previous age of artisans.
From that original structure, Ris could see where it had blossomed, expansion after expansion.
The gym, the spa, the medical center. The tennis courts, the croquet gardens, the ballrooms and dining rooms, on and on, a circular edifice, making its way around the endless amount of land those first elves had marshaled, long before Cambric Creek was incorporated, connected in the center by that original house.
She wondered if she would be around long enough to see what their house would someday become.
Ten acres. That was what they had to work with. At least, for now.
“This is something I want to do,” Caleia had insisted when Ris balked at the suggestion. “This is the gift I want to give the community. The mark I want to leave on Cambric Creek.”
Ten acres was her allotment at Saddlethorne.
Her tree sat in a far field, and while the surrounding ten acres were farmed, they technically belonged to her.
She had been in negotiations with Cal for the better part of the last year and a half, unbeknownst to Ris or the rest of their group.
Building on her land was unfeasible — it was too far afield, too far into the farm itself .
. . but Cal was willing to come to the table.
“He’s very reasonable for a centaur. He knows farming is a hard industry to survive in.
He’s fifth generation on this land, you know.
His boys are going to take it over, but who knows if they’re in it for the long haul?
And who knows how much longer after that?
They’ll wind up parceling it out eventually.
And the only property that has as much land as Saddlethorne is Enoch at the winery, and he’ll live forever out of spite.
This is the best long-term play we can make.
I’m donating the land, and there’s nothing you can say or do to stop me.
This way, all the money we raised can go right into construction. ”
Caleia’s ten acres were to be reallocated to one of the corners — she would relinquish the area around her tree, in exchange for land with better road access, giving them the opportunity to start building immediately.
A provision was being added to give Caleia — and the group afterward — the first purchase rights on any Saddlethorne land Cal’s descendants might choose to sell.
She reassured Ris that they weren’t stepping on any toes.
Saddlethorne was comprised of more than a thousand acres, more than what most folks in the community realized, and their ten acres were a drop in the bucket.
“Honestly, it's barely enough to do anything. But it’s a start.”
Ten acres. It was enough to get them started, they reasoned. Access to the road, a parking lot, electricity and water lines placed, a gas line extension. A house. A foundation to start. Cevanore started with a house, and now so were they.
Adjusting her sunglasses, Ris stepped out of the car, ignoring the dubious look on the valet’s face.
Her car had been new when she’d bought it, shortly after she’d moved to Cambric Creek for work.
It had been the first new car she’d ever owned, a first in her family in general, because she’d grown up with her parents’ secondhand vehicles.
The luxury sedan with the immediately recognizable hood ornament had been given to her father by his grandfather, and it was treated with the wary respect it deserved, driven to drop Ris off at her Elvish school each day, whenever her parents came to see her play sports or sing in a recital, and little else.
They understood its value rested in the optics, and it was not risked on running errands or other daily trips.
Optics were what she had in mind when she’d purchased her car brand new.
A brand new community, she’d told herself at the time, a new community of elves to slide herself into, blurring the edges of who she was and who she professed outwardly to be.
She’d gone to Elvish liltenu classes several times at Cevanore while she’d been exploring her membership options.
The pilates-like class had been fun, the facilities immaculate and she had no doubt that she’d be able to spin a convincing enough yarn to wrap around herself until her membership was secure and she was in the thick of the upper echelon of club gossips.
Pretty, popular Ris always found her place.
. . . But she hadn’t done that. She’d not gone back to Cevanore after those few classes, opting ] to not pursue membership.
She’d lost her stomach for acting, and although the decision had weighed on her, she wouldn’t be where she was that day had she chosen to play the game way back when. Invited because you’re a threat.
The invitation to Cevanore was the first time the Elvish enclave had reached out to her directly since she’d moved to Cambric Creek. That the invitation was received now felt telling.
“You need to go so you can piss in their koi pond,” Lurielle had insisted.
It was the monthly night out without the kids, which was what she did every month, regardless of how often she was encouraged to bring one or both along.
Ris understood. She was exhausted some nights, and she didn’t have two small children wreaking havoc on her home.
Just an Ainsley and a Fitz, and that was enough.
“Oooo, I know! Bring containers from home and clean out the dessert tray in the dining room! And then, you know, bring them here to share. Or to my house.”
“Obviously.”
“I wonder what they want?” Dynah murmured, her eyebrows knit in a look of consternation. “They can’t stop us, can they?”
“Nope,” Ris confirmed. “We’re totally in the clear.”
She had no idea how the news of her little community center-hosted gatherings had reached Cevanore’s vaunted walls, but the knowledge that someone, somewhere within the enclave had felt it necessary to intervene — because she couldn’t imagine they had invited her to do anything but that — was a good enough indication to her that their secondary group was necessary.
Necessary, and they knew it too. And they probably hate that.
She accepted a mimosa upon entering the dining room to which she had been directed, glancing around.
Clusters of Elvish women dotted the space, their voices pitched low, bright bursts of laughter punctuating the atmosphere here and there.
This was the ladies’ salon, she’d been informed.
There was a family dining room, a banquet hall and ballroom, a garden room where tea was held, and a separate gentleman’s lounge.
“Ris!”
She turned at the sound of her name. The Elvish woman coming towards her was not someone she knew. Not someone she’d ever once laid eyes on. And yet she knows your name.
“It’s so wonderful to see you! Thank you so much for joining us! I see you already found some refreshment. Come, sit. They’ll be around with a pastry basket soon.”
She hadn’t grown up in this world. She’d been adjacent to it, had gone to the Elvish school within an enclave, she’d never been a part of it .
. . but proximity had made her an excellent code switcher all these years, and if this elf thought Ris would be easily intimidated, she had another thing coming.
Pretty, popular Ris always found her place.
“I’ve been hearing about your little project,” the elf, Maraliese, said, her voice bright. “Sounds very . . . earnest!”
Ris smiled. Earnest. That’s an interesting word. She may as well pinch you on the cheek and pat your head.
“We’re coming along! It’s just a small group right now, but who knows how we’ll grow.” Who knows what will happen when more of the younger generation begin to choose something different than this?
Silva had attended her first meeting and it had been like having their very own mole, an insider spy to the Cevanore way of life.
“You want to reach out to Rael Kaspard,” she’d told them confidently after the bulk of the group had dispersed for the evening.
Ris and Caleia remained, along with Dynah, the naiad, and one of the sylvans.
Silva was an expert on the inner workings of Cevanore and was herself still technically a member.
“He and his second wife tried to secure their membership for ages, but they wouldn’t have it.
Old money family, very deep pockets. She’s a huldra, which was the issue with the board.
He still lives in the enclave, but they’re basically pariahs.
I know he’s very bitter over the whole situation.
If you give her a seat on a committee, his wallet will fall open.
Also, the Eillis family . . . I went to school with Dorea.
I don’t know if they’re still in Cambric Creek, but again — it was an ugly situation.
If you give them a place to belong, they’ll repay the favor. ”
The inside track felt invaluable. Now they had an inside peek into how Cevanore was structured, what memberships looked like, what it entailed, and what was offered.
Ris had wanted to ask Silva what had changed, but held her tongue.
Silva was sharper, flintier, the experience of her marriage having changed the soft, sweet uptight princess she’d been, and Ris hadn’t wanted to risk offending her.
Silva had left with Dynah, discussing dinner plans for the following evening, closer friends with the proximity of their condos.
Ris grinned now, secure in the knowledge that they would continue to grow.
“So I’ve heard! That’s so wonderful, darling. I always applaud the efforts of grassroots organizations.”
She said it as if grassroots meant Ris was a literal dirt peddler. Her grin tightened as the other elf continued.
“I wanted, if you don’t mind, to offer some advice.
” Maraliese glanced around, as if she were about to disclose the secret of the universe.
“Some individuals can be . . . well, sensitive. Especially women who already feel like they’re on the margins.
You wouldn’t want anyone to feel excluded by something that’s meant to be inclusive. ”
Ris’s smile sharpened. “Yes. That’s kind of the point. We’re not looking to exclude anyone. But I’m glad we can both acknowledge there are some who do feel like they’re on the margins . . . for whatever reason.”
Maraliese laughed, high and effervescent. “Of course, darling! But sometimes these things work best when they’re folded into an existing structure, that’s all. That way, there’s guidance, you understand. Oversight.”
Oversight. A gate, keeping out the riff raff like you, like Dynah. Ris took a sip of her mimosa, buying a beat of time before responding.
“Well, we’re not really looking to impose oversight on who joins us.
Because if the oversight is working . . .
why do those margins exist? Women who already feel like they’re on the margins clearly haven’t been helped by the existing guidance.
An open door is kind of our whole policy.
That’s why we’ve opened membership to species beyond elves.
We’re all going to be here together for a long time; may as well foster a community together and thrive. ”
Maraliese’s smile thinned for a moment. “I just worry,” she went on, voice now dripping in phony concern, “that your little group might be positioning this as an alternative when it doesn’t need to be. That can make people uncomfortable.”
“Why on earth would inclusion make anyone uncomfortable?” Ris asked, her turn to laugh, high and phony.
This was a game she had been playing all her life. She might not understand the internal hierarchies as well as Silva, but she knew mean girls and queen bees. This game she knew, and she was fluent in corporate speak besides.
“And you actually touched on one of our important words that we’ve stressed from the beginning.
An alternative. Not a replacement. We don’t want anyone to feel obligated to leave the existing structure if they have a place in it.
” She drained her glass, placing it on the table deliberately.
She’d heard enough. “But I can’t help but wonder why we’re more concerned with the comfort of those who already have a place than the exclusion of those who don’t? ”
The other elf’s smile hardened out, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Just be careful, darling. You don’t want to find yourself alienated.”
Ris laughed again, making her voice sparkle as brightly as the chandelier above her head. This well-appointed dining room was beautiful, but table linens and flowers didn’t make up for Dynah never receiving acceptance when she had attempted to join this club.
“Oh, I don’t need to worry about that. We’re not interested in alienating anyone.
And if there is a group that is . . . well, it’s a good thing there’s an alternative.
We’re about to break ground on phase one of our clubhouse, so it’s a very exciting time to become involved.
Thank you so much for inviting me today, Maraliese. This was . . . illuminating.”
She wished Cevanore offered day passes to outsiders, she thought, her nerves jangling all the way to the valet stand.
She’d like to take Ainsley here for an afternoon.
It would be like visiting a zoo, allowing him to gawk and take in the tightly constrained atmosphere in which these elves chose to live their lives.
She understood it. They were all aware of the future.
They didn’t make community with outsiders for a reason, and it was a good reason.
Not a reason for everyone, herself included, but she understood it.
But seeing it up close, sitting in that dining room beneath the vaulted ceiling with its sparkling chandelier and fine silver .
. . it was a cage. A beautifully gilded cage, but a cage nonetheless, and perhaps he might better be able to understand elves like Lurielle and Silva if he were able to see it and experience it himself.
A cage to which Silva had not flown back.
She understood that, too. Good thing there’s an alternative for those of us who don’t fit the mold. At least, there will be soon.