9. Patronages
9
PATRONAGES
ODETTE
“ I t’s appalling… your food culture.” Alexandra pulled a face and turned from the girls and Scandinavian delights their father provided for breakfast.
Under the table, Grieg positioned himself between Alexandra and Rick’s daughters—Linny and Kari—waiting for the children to drop food. He wagged his tail and flicked his head between them. Little Christophe, their youngest, slept somewhere across the palace after his late-night party.
I snickered.
“It’s fine. It’s sweet and savoury,” Rick said of the Brunost on toast the girls ate.
“It’s terrible, baby. Terrible.”
I agreed with Alexandra. Our pastries were a vast improvement on whatever these crazy Vikings got up to.
“They’re quiet and eating. Hush, Lex!”
She rolled her eyes. “Odie, how did the event go last night?”
“It was a catastrophe,” I sighed.
Concern rolled over my sister’s queenly face.
My face flushed red. I immediately defended myself. “No, nothing I did. ”
“Some idiot pulled the fire extinguisher,” Rick said. “They had to flee, but Odette made inroads with one of the big fish.”
I didn’t deserve his kindness, smiling back in thanks.
“Oh?” Alexandra raised her eyebrow. “That’s brilliant, darling. Who?”
“Wyatt Worthington,” Rick continued. “Wasn’t that right, Odie?”
I nodded. “Um… he was there. We discussed safe streets and a particularly hazardous crossing. He had some ideas. I was fascinated.”
“That’s great,” Alexandra said. “Well done.”
“Would it not make sense to give Odette a patronage, baby?” Rick suggested. “You know, Vision 360?”
“I don’t know that we are ready for that. Besides, Rick, you enjoy the road commission folks.”
My heart sank. I said nothing. There was no point in arguing. She’d make up her mind that I was deficient, even if Rick was delusional in thinking otherwise. I knew my place.
My phone buzzed.
Rick
Speak up for yourself if you want this!
I groaned internally and took a deep breath. Rick was right. I rolled over and gave up because it was easier. Fighting meant more emotional investment for what? For her to call me broken and to deny me in the end? I thought about my argument. I had a good one last night. Was I willing to launch into it and risk rejection?
“Well, I disagree, Alex,” I said.
Surprise spread. I have the floor!
“I… uh… I believe I would be an excellent choice for the campaign. I am a cyclist. I care deeply about safety. I’m perfect for it.”
I nodded for added confidence, even if I was nervous. I’d fake it until I made it.
“She is,” Rick shrugged.
“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Alexandra looked at me before becoming distracted by the children.
She admonished her middle child in what I described as maternal French. It was deep and sharp. “Kari, stop torturing Linny right this minute. Forks are for food, not hair!”
The girls stared at their mother, then their father, who didn’t give in.
“Sorry, Mama,” Kari said.
“Let’s be kind to one another, alright?” I echoed. “She’s your sister. You’ll need her to have your back for years and years, Kari.”
“Someday, Karolina, she will be your boss. You don’t want her to remember the worst bits and be a tyrant, do you?” Rick looked instead at Alexandra.
Ouch, Rick, tell us how you really feel!
Alexandra rolled her eyes. “Odette, do you think this is too much, or would it be good for you?”
I perked up. “It would be great, honestly. I think this is what I need.”
“Fine,” Alexandra agreed. “You have a patronage. But if I begin to worry?—”
“Alexandra, you cannot threaten me every time with that,” I protested. “My recovery isn’t linear. I have good and bad days, but… I am working so hard to do better. It isn’t easy. Worrying that you are waiting for the other shoe to drop is invalidating.”
Her words hurt. Usually, I’d remind myself her intent was good, but I needed to push back. She deserved to know how it made me feel. The more I spoke, the more confident I became.
Alexandra’s face pulled in pain. “I’m sorry, darling. I will try harder to be more supportive. It would help if you didn’t feel I am waiting for you to fail. You’ve been so brave and strong, but I worry about you like a mother would.”
“I know, but I’m a grown woman,” I said. “I want to live like one. Treat me as you would Astrid if she were here.”
Alexandra nodded. “I will try to remember that, Odette. I’m sorry. Please manage to get that American on board. We will need his goodwill and financial firepower to make a dent with the council.”
“I thought the government approved of it?” I asked.
“The national government did, but the local planning commissions must report to the Mayor. Mr Mayor is a fucking buffoon who hates people and bikes,” Rick said. “I hate that dick. He is sitting on a huge surplus.”
“Rick, language,” Alexandra sighed.
“You shouldn’t say dick, Pappa,” Linnea reminded. “Or asshole. Or knob. Or wanker. Or fuckwit?—”
“That’s more than enough, Linny, thank you,” Alexandra glared at Rick.
Rick winced. “Vocabularies are like diets—best when colourful and varied —right?”