AN:
Hey lovelies! Guess who managed to finish a new chap in under two weeks for once xD Don't get used to it! lol
To the lovely guest reviewer who can't wait for the real Gelphie to start:
Oh, my sweet summer child... Thank you for your review! I'm glad you enjoy the story and I hope you won't be to disappointed if I tell you that we still got a long way to go. So don't hold your breath, but don't give up on the story either! We did make some important progress after all. Hope I can keep you interested for a little while longer :)
Okay and now please enjoy the latest installment! (If you can)
Happy reading!
xxx MLE (=^_^=)
Chapter Fourteen
It took Glinda a good few minutes to calm down. After laughing off Fiyero's suggestions and ignoring her own tender doubts for so long, finally accepting the truth had hit her hard. She could hardly explain how she'd been able to keep it together in front of Elphaba, but needless to say, she was incredibly grateful for this unexpected measure of strength and composure. Now how should she go on from here? That was the question of the century, and the hallway was certainly not the best place try and solve it.
She waited for her breaths to even out, then pushed herself off from the wall. Sluggishly climbing the stairs to the next floor, she hoped with every step that Crope and Tibbett hadn't witnessed any of it. She had no desire to discuss Elphaba with them tonight. She couldn't be bothered explaining how Elphaba had come to drop her home after she had assured Crope this very morning that she was heading out to see Fiyero, and she most definitely could not take any more teasing about their secret liaison.
When she cautiously entered the apartment, she found both boys lounging on the couch, watching reality TV.
"Hey, Glin!" Tibbett greeted, while his boyfriend only waved distractedly.
She mumbled a curt reply and headed for her room. All she wanted to do was to collapse onto her bed and watch funny cat videos on her phone. She didn't want to function anymore today, only sidetrack her overburdened mind until sleep would claim her. Her eyes caught a glimpse of her laptop however, and reminded her that she'd come to regret it in the morning if she did not at least try to fix the work Nikidik had asked her to do. She decided that she'd put at least some effort in it, but later. First, she'd have a shower and then a go at locating something unhealthy to munch on.
Tibbett was in the kitchen when she walked in, preparing his and Crope's lunchboxes. She searched the pantry, but couldn't find anything that tickled her fancy, so she asked her flatmate.
"You know, we did plan you in for dinner today," he chided her mildly. "Ah well, I guess the risotto still tastes fine from the fridge."
"Sorry and thanks," she sighed. "I'll take it for lunch, I guess. Always good to have a pick-me-up at work. Do we have anything more snack-ish though?"
He shook his head.
"Sorry babe, I think Crope might have been there before you. Nothing's save when he's in one of his moods."
In the end, she had no other choice than to content herself with a banana from the otherwise also empty fruit bowl.
Not quite satisfied, she returned to her laptop to have another look at her assignment. For two hours she did what she could to clear her head of anything unrelated to her work but was only barely able to keep thoughts of Elphaba and her mysterious eyes at bay. Too often, she found herself staring into space, replaying their most recent encounter in her head, mulling over her wants, her needs and her options. Eventually, she'd curse those magnificent eyes and her own weak-mindedness and continue where she'd left off. She quickly lost track of how often she'd repeated this irritating cycle.
Nevertheless, she did manage to make at least some progress. She'd been able to figure out the exact mistake that had ruined her colleague's work and had started to correct some of his calculations. That was about as far as she'd get.
"Nikidik better like it, or he can shove it," she murmured to herself, knowing at the back of her mind that she would not possess the same courage come morning.
Getting ready for night, she combed her hair more thoroughly than necessary, brushed her teeth until they were beyond clean. Though she felt drained, she was reluctant to go to bed, wary of the pondering she expected to ensue the moment she laid her head to rest. She turned on some music to play in the background while she browsed through her news app. Perhaps, if she was proactive about it, she could stir her thoughts in a different direction and fall asleep worrying about something a little less personal.
Her plan might have worked, if her phone hadn't buzzed halfway through the second article, alerting her to a new message from Fiyero. She blinked and checked the time, wondering why he was still awake. She had to admit though that she did owe him an update. Without his help she would not have patched up things with Elphaba this quickly. Or at all? Maybe she would have ended up lamenting the end of a friendship rather than her conflicted emotions. Might this have been the preferable ending to their story? She'd have gotten over the heartache, eventually. As she probably would get over her feelings for the wayward green girl if necessary. But she was getting sidetracked again. Fiyero still required an answer.
She typed out a detailed summary of her evening, carefully omitting the grand finale. He seemed happy with that and replied with numerous excited smiley faces. Shaking her head but smiling to herself, she sent him a final goodnight message and put her phone aside.
Unfortunately, her correspondence with Fiyero had forced her to open a true Pandora's Box. The more sensible part of her knew that she needed rest and should not attempt to contemplate such profound questions in the middle of the night, but that restless, impatient little voice that had been nagging her all evening was now practically screaming at her to make itself heard.
So she was in love with Elphaba. Despite her earlier vehement and genuinely confident denial, there was no use denying it any longer. She could now say with conviction that she'd not felt this way before, and the thought that Elphaba, out of all people, was her first love seemed beautifully tragic to her. Why in Oz did she have to fall for someone so amazing, yet so inconvenient? She berated herself for even thinking the last word, but it was true nonetheless.
There must be plenty of candidates out there who would be better suited than her to deal with unconventional love interests, yet unfairly end up with perfectly ordinary partners who meet all the expectations of even the most conservative parents and most insecure companions. Why did she have to be tested in this way? Did she not already have enough on her plate with her unfortunate affliction, her debilitating hang-ups? While she often enough bemoaned the challenges posed by her sexual orientation, she rarely despised it. This was one of those rare occasions.
A more 'normal' version of herself would probably have fallen in and out of love a number of times by this point and could have easily chosen between several suitable and uncomplicated partners. Or at least that was how she imagined it would have been. She was blonde, blue-eyed, slender and at least a little bit clever. She had seen and heard enough to know that her type was in high demand. It didn't matter that she was a bit on the short side; it did matter, however, that she hardly ever found herself drawn to people and that she struggled with physical nearness and affection. Normal Glinda would not have had such issues, and she surely would not have had to wait to find someone like Elphaba to come around before finding a happy and fulfilling relationship.
She stopped herself there to reconsider her stream of thought, then angrily turned around and screamed into her pillow. This wasn't right. None of this was Elphaba's fault. Elphaba on her own was perfect; well, close enough to perfect at any rate. Glinda should never regret loving someone as brilliant as Elphaba. She deserved all the love in the world. She deserved someone better than this silly girl who cared too much what others thought to embrace her feelings for her.
Out of breath and slowly rolling onto her side, Glinda decided that she needed to be better than this. She would not wake up tomorrow and fling herself into Elphaba's arms, but she needed to find more acceptable criteria to assess her situation and help her decide on her next cause of action.
So she was in love with Elphaba. So what? 'Love is blind' was a common phrase that people used, not too often in a good way. Anyone could fall in love with anybody; the presence of strong emotion was no guarantee for eternal bliss and wholeness. Not all lovers were meant for each other. How was anyone supposed to find out whether a relationship was destined to prosper or fail without giving it a go? There had to be some way to at least minimise the risks involved, right?
She didn't believe in 'the one' but was fairly sure that, at least for her, there were not a million other fish in the sea. If she was lucky enough, there were maybe as many as a dozen, and who knew how many of those she'd have the fortune to encounter before her life was over or at least her youth and beauty spent? Did this mean she had no choice but to take the plunge and hope for the best?
The thought didn't sit right with her. Giving up control over such a huge portion of her life was an almost unacceptable sacrifice. Adding to that the certainty that her family and many of her acquaintances would never speak to her again if she ever dared to enter a relationship of this nature, it was almost a no-brainer.
But if that was the case, why couldn't she successfully convince herself there and then to weather out the storm, squash her feelings and wait for her heart to heal? Why was she still reluctant to completely dismiss the possibility?
As the night progressed, she was still no closer to a solution, but most certainly at the brink of a splitting headache. She yawned so wide and deep that the joints of her jaw cracked. What wouldn't she have given for a little magic pill or at least some booze! She needed her brain to shut up and her eyes to close, and soon. In the end, it would take her another hour until she finally slipped away.
Nikidik summoned her to his desk the moment she entered the office. It had taken her three paracetamol and an ungodly amount of caffeine to make it to work that morning, and she was still not certain how long this cocktail would keep her on her feet and operational.
"Raoul made a mistake here," she explained and pointed out the problem on the original spreadsheet before showing her boss the improvements she'd made. "I identified the exact problem in the sidenotes."
"Yes, I knew that something looked off," nodded Nikidik. "Flipping hell, this boy needs to get his act together, or he'll find himself short of a job very soon."
It was an uncomfortable situation for Glinda. She tried not to listen, but it was near impossible not to hear words spoken right next to and at least indirectly directed at her.
"Is that all?" she asked hesitantly once Nikidik had stopped talking and moved on to studying the screen.
"Any particular reason why you didn't finish this?" he asked gruffly, gesturing at the empty rows in her version of the document.
She swallowed.
"I—There wasn't enough time. I did not expect this review to take so long, so I made the mistake of leaving it for Sunday night."
He raised his eyebrows to look at her over his half-moon spectacles and grunted unhappily. She steeled herself for the reproaches to come. Much to her surprise, however, he merely shook his head.
"Well, I do hope to see more commitment from you in the future.
"Now. I have another matter to discuss with you. I trust you remember this young chap, Chuffrey?"
Of course she did. He was that cocky client she'd handled for Dayae the other week when she'd stayed at home sick. She wondered why Nikidik would ask her about him. Had there been any complaints?
When she gave voice to her worry, Nikidik assured her that quite the opposite was the case.
"In fact, he requested for his affairs to be transferred to your care permanently. You must have made quite an impression, I suppose. Dayae is a very capable girl; I don't know why he believes that you could serve his interests better, but the client is king, so I don't see why I should deny his wish."
Glinda could barely find the words to express her bewilderment, but even when she was finally able to think of a few choice expression, she realised that none of them were appropriate to be used in front of her boss.
"I expect I won't have any say in the matter?" she asked stiffly.
Nikidik started to grow visibly impatient with her.
"Not unless you have any genuine concerns or objections."
She didn't. The fact that she found him unlikeable and arrogant was irrelevant on a professional basis, and her suspicion that his decision had more to do with her charm than her abilities would only gain significance if he were to overstep certain boundaries. It was a transgression she could hardly accuse him of before the fact, so for the time being, she had no ammunition to shoot down the proposal, no matter how much she disliked it.
Later she ran into Dayae and promptly told her colleague of her frustration. Apparently, this was the first the Munchkin had heard of the handover.
"For real?" she asked with a good measure of disbelief. "Crap. That bastard. I'd say good riddance, but I'm sorry to hear that he's now your burden to bear. Make sure he behaves himself. With all respect, I seriously doubt his motives."
"I know," Glinda agreed. "It certainly has nothing to do with my skills. Or my experience. I actually feel rather underprepared. He's got a lot and wants a lot more. Not sure how I can keep up with such ambition."
"You'll get the hang of it, sweetie," Dayae encouraged her with a wink. "But in the meantime, don't hesitate to come to me if you need any advice."
Feeling indeed heartened by their conversation, Glinda decided to push all the negativity aside for the time being. Surely, her new client would not come in within this week or even the next, and when he finally did, she would take it one step by step.
The rest of her working day passed uneventful – until about four o'clock, when her phone suddenly rang. Swiftly and without looking, she swiped her finger across the screen to decline the call. Although it wasn't strictly against the rules, she preferred to avoid taking private calls at work and the office had been particularly quiet this afternoon with everyone seemingly snowed under with assignments. She herself was in the middle of something as well and annoyed to be interrupted. It wasn't until a couple of minutes later that she risked a distracted glance at her phone's display.
"Oh shit," she cursed under her breath when she saw that the unwelcome caller had been her mother.
She began to type out a message to apologise for the snub and to ask whether anything was the matter, but made it barely halfway through before her phone began to vibrate again. Frantically muting the ringtone, she scrambled to her feet and hurried towards the hallway. She was headed for the fire stairs, however, when she found an empty conference room on the way, she changed her mind and slipped inside.
"Hey mumsie," she finally answered the call, slightly out of breath. "Why are you calling? Something wrong with popsicle?"
"Well, dearest daughter," the older woman answered rather sniffy, "while the same apparently cannot be said for you, I at least do not require a disaster to occur before I pick up the phone and check in with my precious child."
Glinda bit her lip and rolled her eyes. Perhaps, if dealing with her mum had not become such a pain over the past few years, she also would put more effort in keeping in touch.
"Yes, I'm sorry, mumsie. But could we please discuss this after work hours?"
"Why, I reckoned you'd be home by now."
"One hour time difference, remember?" Glinda sighed. "Regardless, I rarely finish exactly at five o'clock, so if you could please try and refrain from calling me before six thirty, I'd be much obliged."
"No need to be so perky with me, young Lady," replied Larena. She clicked her tongue and paused. "I will try to keep it in mind though," she added in a more complaisant tone of voice.
"Would you like me to call you back later then?"
"No, darling, what I need to say can be said in less than a minute, and I trust you can spare at least that much time for your poor, old mother."
Another eye roll. Glinda was only glad she didn't have to deal with her mother in person all too often anymore. Her attitude had markedly changed since she'd left home, and her self-restraint had by now loosened to a degree where it would make simply nodding to everything her mother said extremely difficult.
"Alright," she said as calmly as she could while looking up to the clock on the wall and tapping her foot on the ground.
"You see, the long Ozmatic Weekend is coming up, and I decided to come over and see you."
Glinda's stomach dropped. She hardly found the words to respond to that.
"You—What? I mean, that's this weekend already."
"I'm your mother, Galinda," huffed Larena indignantly. "I should not be required to announce my visits months in advance."
"Have you already figured out the logistics?" Glinda interrupted impatiently.
"Will you not invite your own mother to stay at your apartment?"
"Believe me, I'd love to," she lied, clenching her fist so hard her fingernails dug into her skin, "but I'm still flatting. There is no room, unless you want to sleep on the couch and be disturbed in the morning by rambunctious, young men."
For a brief moment, her mother remained silent.
"I can't believe you are still stuck with this arrangement," Larena said at last. "And with those boys to boot."
"Don't you think I would have told you if I'd moved to my own place? It would have been somewhat of a milestone, right?"
"Well, do I need remind you; your correspondence has been somewhat patchy of late. And you are now at a point in life where it should be expected that you move on to something more suitable.
"Regardless, I will sort something out."
"Please do," Glinda replied tiredly, flexing her hand to alleviate the cramping her clenching had caused.
They agreed to meet up for brunch on Saturday morning at whichever café was closest to her mother's hotel. The rest would be decided then and there. While she couldn't say that she was looking forward to their reunion, she took comfort in the fact that she still had an entire work week to herself before the meddling and nit-picking was expected to begin.
On Wednesday, she received a text from Elphaba. They had been casually messaging each other back and forth since the weekend, but with no particular urgency. At least Glinda for her part had made sure not to reply to any of Elphaba's communications too hastily. Still undecided about the path she should choose, she treaded carefully, intent not to give any of her feelings away, nor add fuel to the fire.
In this latest text, Elphaba asked her about her availability this weekend. The Animal festival-thingy was only two and a half weeks away, and apparently, she'd taken on quite a lot of work to help with it. Now she in turn required help to keep up with her workload.
Glinda's first reaction was immense frustration with her mother's terrible timing. A whole weekend at Elphaba's place sounded exceedingly tempting, whatever the underlying purpose. Then again, wouldn't it have been too risky at this point anyway? Wouldn't it have driven her crazy, driven her to some stupid mistake or another? She tried to comfort herself with those thoughts, as long as she didn't have to actually thank her mother for accidentally saving her from her own imprudence by ruining her long weekend.
The way things were, Glinda had no choice but to tell Elphaba about her mother's upcoming visit and to apologise for not being of much use. As she sent the message, Glinda's shoulders slumped in resignation. Perhaps this was the nudge she had needed for her decision making. If she could avoid seeing Elphaba this weekend, maybe she could try and stay away from her even a bit longer than that. It was true that she sometimes literally craved the green girl's companionship, but if she consciously stayed abstinent and reduced any contact, her cravings should lessen the same way as they did if she denied herself certain treats or alcoholic drinks. Right?
Maybe this was the best test available to her: if she were able to cool her feelings for Elphaba through prolonged distancing, it would probably be for the best to forget about them altogether. And if the opposite were to occur? Well, she'd probably be able to find another excuse if necessary.
Like most unwelcome events, the Saturday of her mother's arrival came much faster than Glinda had expected. She spent the majority of her morning deciding on an outfit her mumsie would not be able to pick apart and preparing topics she would be able to safely discuss with her; and of course, she also thought of a few ways to sidestep some of the most likely pitfalls she'd encounter.
They met at the Emerald Garden. Her mother stayed at the adjacent hotel and was already awaiting her when she arrived. The Lady at the front of the café showed Glinda to a quiet corner in the outside seating area. Vines of emerald ivy covered the walls and wooden partitions, here and there dotted with little golden lightbulbs. They stepped over a narrow artificial stream, complete with aquatic plants and spotted gold fish. It was not the kind of place she would usually frequent.
"Oh, my darling!" Larena immediately called as she caught sight of her. She stood to kiss both of her cheeks and her forehead, then took a step back to inspect her daughter, hands resting on her shoulders. "You look good," she smiled. "Say, when did you get your hair done? This length really suits you and looks much more mature."
Glinda raised her hand to self-consciously check on her hair. Crope had done it for her the night before. She preferred it longer, but these days couldn't be bothered keeping up with trimming and styling it as regularly as she used to, so she'd asked him to take off a little more this time. When he'd presented her with a mirror so she could inspect the end result, he'd quickly noticed her unhappy face and, without a single word of complaint, spent another two hours straightening out her tighter natural curls and replacing them with luscious, gentle waves.
They sat down, ordered salads, a cheese platter and wine — all for the unbeatable price of about Glinda's daily salary. Larena asked about Fiyero. Glinda was still amazed each time she did. Although nothing on the change in succession had been released by Vinkun officials yet, her mother usually had her own ways of finding such things out one way or another. Even if his parents did not wish to make their family troubles and their son's new status public, someone was bound to know about it, and usually someone would betray the best kept secrets in the end. But not yet, apparently. Her mother still seemed to have at least the faintest of hopes to see her a royal one day.
"Well, I still don't understand," sighed Larena heavily. "Your move to the capital showed so much promise early on. Even if this particular courtship did not pan out, why does it seem so difficult for you now to secure another young man's affection? What did we send you to university for?"
"I graduated with a double degree and a postgraduate diploma," Glinda pointed out, not looking up from her salad.
"What you need is a husband," her mother insisted. "Or a fiancé at least. Oz, the way things are going, I'd be happy to only know that you're having boyfriends every now and again. Why don't you move to your own apartment? I think it is time. And it would certainly make it easier to find a partner if you lived alone. Those two boys are in the way, believe me."
The truth was that Glinda did not want to live by herself. She enjoyed flatting, even though Crope and Tibbett could drive her half mad at times. She also wouldn't easily be able to pay for an apartment in the capital, unless she used the money her parents sent her every month; she'd vowed to herself that she'd never touch a single cent of it, unless she was absolutely desperate. She'd told her mum some half-truth about wanting to try and be a responsible, self-reliant adult, but she'd only laughed.
"Momsie, none of my friends are married yet," she said, shrugging as nonchalantly as she could manage. "That's just not how young people do it these days."
Larena raised her eyebrows.
"Perhaps. But without a doubt, at least the majority of them are in good hands by now, even if they are reluctant to call it a marriage. Only the ugly and the ill-tempered ought to be left on the shelf at your age. You are neither, and Oz knows, with your fine assets you were almost guaranteed to be the first of your peers to be married happily and well. You were fit for a prince once, so I refuse to believe that other men find you unappealing. I suppose it must be you who needs to channel more energy into sourcing and trialling eligible candidates."
After making all reasonable efforts to keep this particular discussion superficial and brief, Glinda was dangerously close to the end of her tether. They had been together less than half an hour and she already felt herself pushed to wondering how much longer she could possibly handle her mother's persistence; things were definitely going worse than she'd hoped.
Lost in thoughts, she momentarily lost track of her mother's spate of words, yet it hardly mattered, as she was still busy beating the same dead horse.
"Mum!" Glinda finally snapped, agitatedly stabbing an innocent tomato with her fork.
Larena fell silent, fixing her daughter with a stare of anger and disbelief. She didn't need to say anything to make her disapproval any clearer.
Glinda herself paused for a second to check her emotions. She put down her fork.
"I know views in Frottica are still very conservative," she said at last, her tone remaining strained, but her words decidedly more measured. "I've been living in the capital for so many years now and grown used to the way things are done here. You have not, and I understand that it seems all very unusual and strange to you."
"Galinda."
Larena tended to stress the otherwise customarily silent a in the beginning of her name whenever she was particularly displeased with her daughter. Although they had chosen a more contemporary version of the name at her birth, Galinda was the more traditional form. Many notable women of the Arduenna clan had born it before her. It was a weak appeal to modernity but a strong reminder of the expectations that were resting upon her shoulders. Once upon a time, she'd been naively proud of her heritage and had herself tried to emphasise the alternative pronunciation of her name. However, with time, she'd learnt to dislike it more and more.
"I'm sorry if you think that moving me to the capital has changed me for the worse," Glinda said bitterly, flicking her mother a fleeting glance before looking down and chewing the inside of her cheek.
In truth, she was genuinely sad that her parents were disappointed in her, but she was not even half as sorry for being the person she'd become.
"Indeed." Larena replied stiffly, flaring her nostrils. "Then perhaps it is time we brought you back home, to remind you of where you came from and what your values ought to be. Since university did not have the desired effect, we probably should press ahead with your future by engaging a matchmaking agency."
Glinda's mouth fell open in shock. She couldn't possibly have heard this right.
Her mother shrugged it off and gently touched her chin to stop her gaping.
"I know this might sound outlandish to you, but in Frottica this practice is still very much alive. Your aunt Jacine was married this way, as were two or three of your cousins. If you find it too difficult to secure a partner on your own, we need to consider alternatives before it's too late. After all, you'll be twenty-six in two months. That is almost six years older than I was when I got engaged to your father."
Glinda continued to stare at her mother in astonishment. She'd never thought it would come to this. It wouldn't have, of course, if she'd found it easier to fall in love and find the man of her dreams in a timely manner; yet even with the way that things had barely been progressing over the years, she'd only feared her parents disappointment, not their intervention.
"You can't make me," she said slowly, her voice barely above a whisper.
The corners of her mother's mouth twitched. She picked up her handbag to look for something, then pulled out an ornate cigarette holder and a painted tin which held her cigarettes. She lit one, inhaled and more or less elegantly blew smoke in the air.
After a few moments, she crossed her arms and regarded Glinda with a sigh.
"I only want the best for my baby. I am your mother after all. And if you don't know what is good for you, trust me, I have my ways."
These words scared Glinda. Though she had at least some reason to doubt her mother's powers over her life, she did not doubt them enough to easily brush off her threat.
"Now let's discuss something more pleasant," Larena suddenly suggested. "You see, I've got tickets for the opera tomorrow night."
Glinda frowned.
"I suppose you did not come all the way to watch any typical production at the Old State Opera."
"Indeed not!" her mother exclaimed with an amused scoff. "A new opera by Woxgreen is going to premier at this weekend's Wizodrome Arts Festival. Unfortunately, we're not going to the actual premier, which is on Monday, but at least we can see the preview.
Glinda knew her well enough to realise that this was hardly about the enjoyment of a cultural experience. At best, she simply hoped for her daughter to be seen by the right people; at worst, she'd end up abandoning her after introducing Glinda to a potential suitor. Even though she did not fall for the ruse, she had no choice but to attend the event. Showing a little good will was all she could do right now to mollify her mother and prevent her from taking the most drastic measures at her disposal.
Larena asked her if she had a suitable outfit for the occasion; naturally, she didn't, so a visit to the city's famous Emerald High Street was in order. They decided on a mint green gown with petal design and myriads of meticulous details, and a small tiara to go with it. She could not tell for certain how much her mother spent on this frock that would be worn no more than once – there were no price tags, for it was the kind of store where the clientele did generally not worry about such trivial matters as money – but she estimated the total cost in the thousands.
After the dress, there was a light afternoon snack along with a flute of sparkling wine to celebrate the newly acquired gown and – so Glinda supposed – everything it stood for. It wasn't that this was the way her parents generally lived from day to day; more likely, her mother intended to remind her what it felt like to live a life in luxury. In reality, her father was wealthy enough, but their single greatest asset was still their ancient family name.
For dinner they stayed at her mother's hotel, and afterwards, Larena asked her upstairs to her room for a dress rehearsal. She'd brought along a pair of silver coloured satin heels that Glinda had left in Frottica since she had little use for them these days. For the few minutes required to travel to the Wizodrome Theatre she would wear a white fur throw of her mother's. Glinda grimaced briefly as it reminded her of Elphaba. Elphie would most certainly chide her for not even knowing for sure whether it might be sourced from an Animal. At least it was pretty old, she supposed. And the poor creature that had worn it before her must have been dead for at least a hundred years. There also was a set of matching white gold jewellery, studded with pale emeralds to complete the ensemble.
Fully dressed and decked out with her father's family heirlooms, Glinda felt like she was wearing an elaborate costume. Once a fact of her childhood life, gowns no longer felt natural to her. Somehow she'd become a perfectly middleclass girl that even occasionally crawled into drainage pipes to rescue little Monkeys. She took a picture with her phone for Fiyero, so they could make fun of it later.
Glinda's Sunday was entirely taken up by preparations for the grand event in the evening: spa, manicure, hair and makeup. Her mother had hired a car and driver to take them from one appointment to the next. Back at the hotel, Larena insisted on helping Glinda with her wardrobe change, lest she undo all of the hairdresser's efforts or smudge her eyeshadow.
"You've gained a little too much weight," she remarked pointedly as she tied the back of Glinda's gown snug enough to make her wonder whether she mistook it for a corset.
Glinda swallowed any complaints she might have had, reminding herself that all this would be over by Monday afternoon. If she could only please her mother enough until then, she might not be in too much of a hurry to visit again – or worse: try to recall her to Frottica.
Arriving at the theatre, Glinda found that she was by no means overdressed; suddenly surrounded by such a sophisticated crowd, she almost felt normal again. They handed their outer garments to the coat check and presented their tickets at the door to the foyer. Every now and again Glinda noticed someone she may or may not have met before, but there was no time for second glances, as her mother swiftly and purposefully weaved her way through the packed room, pulling Glinda along.
One instance in particular had her heart beating hard in her chest, when they passed a young gent that bore an uncanny resemblance to her newly acquired client Chuffrey. The subsequent riddling over whether it was indeed him or merely a lookalike was unnerving, although Glinda could not quite decide why the possibility upset her so. Even if she could think of any legitimate reasons to avoid him, she had to admit that he would be rather unlikely to recognise her in such an unexpected place and getup.
Larena finally gave up her search and allowed herself a glass of the free champagne offered by waiting staff. Thankful for the reprieve, Glinda helped herself to a small roe topped canapé from a different tray.
"Seen anyone you know?" Larena asked, surveying the crowd, but Glinda shook her head no.
"I don't think so. How about you, mumsie?"
"I recognise a few faces, of course, but I don't know them as such," she answered unhappily. "Naturally, I'm more familiar with the Upper Gillikinese circle. Your father gave up traveling to the capital for the Season a long time ago."
"Ah yes, one of his most unforgiveable crimes," Glinda commented dryly, earning herself a sharp look from her mother.
Glinda wasn't in the least sorry for her slight impertinence, but quickly reminded herself that she needed her mother to leave the Emerald City in good spirits tomorrow.
To her amazement, Larena's mood brightened almost immediately, but Glinda was certainly not the source for this abrupt change. Cautiously curious, she turned around to see whose presence had caused such delight on her mother's face.
"Fesander!" she heard her mother call, and a tall man with grey back-slicked hair and a black, neatly boxed beard looked up from his programme booklet.
"Ah, Larena!" He stuck the booklet under his arm and stepped forward to greet them properly. "So good to see you. How have you been, my dear?" he enquired before moving in to fleetingly kiss the older woman's cheek.
"Well, you know how bored I get, confined to the province," Larena laughed affectedly. "Highmuster is such a bore, but at least my daughter lives in the capital now that she's all grown up and gives me cause to visit occasionally."
The man's attention shifted to Glinda, who momentarily felt self-conscious under his gaze. Just in time, she remembered her yearslong training and mustered a charming smile.
"Nice to meet you," she said and offered her hand.
"Miss Glinda, isn't it? I remember you from when you were a toddler," he replied as he lightly shook it. "You and my son played together at your aunt's wedding."
She had no recollection of the wedding or the boy, but nodded politely.
"Speaking of Torias; where is he?" wondered Larena.
"I'm sure he'll show up soon," assured Fesander. "We did not arrive together. In the meantime, what can I get for you ladies?"
"Where did you find this programme?" asked Larena, gently pulling it out from underneath his arm. "I did not see them on the way in."
"I shall go and retrieve one for you then," he said as he took his own booklet back. He inclined his head and turned around, leaving the women to themselves for a short while.
Larena craned her neck to watch him leave. As soon as she was satisfied that he was out of earshot, she took her daughter's arm in hers.
"Listen, sweetie, I can't command you to like this boy, but I want you to be cordial with him and keep an open mind. He has grown into a good-looking young man, and he will inherit his father's land, money and title one day. Granted, Fesander is only a baronet, but he's a shrewd businessman and wealthier than most earls these days, who cling to their chattels and castles by not much more than a thread."
Glinda exhaled softly, not at all surprised to find her earlier suspicions confirmed. She quelled a passing urge to hysterically flee the scene and instead focused on taking sufficiently deep breaths despite the limitations set by her tightly laced dress.
"How long have you been planning this?" she whispered eventually, clearly not simply out of innocent interest.
"I met Fesander and Torias earlier this month," her mother admitted. "But it was him who approached me afterwards to suggest a meeting between the two of you."
"I see," Glinda retorted curtly.
Neither woman said another word until Fesander returned with the promised booklet – and his son. Glinda's eyes grew wide as she tried and failed to hide her surprise. The young man opposite her took notice and grinned.
"Miss Upland?" he said, tilting his head.
His father gave the two young people puzzled looks, while Glinda's mother seemed displeased.
"My maiden name," Larena explained with a tense smile. "I can only presume Glinda did not wish to be treated preferentially at work."
"So you know each other?" Fesander tried to clarify, and his son promptly confirmed.
"We had business dealings, yes."
"Extraordinary! What do you do professionally, Miss Glinda?"
"Finance," she supplied vaguely.
She was finally saved by the bell that announced the impending commencement of the first act. Their seats were in the same row, but not immediately next to each other, for which she was rather grateful. Her mother pelted her with millions of questions, of course, to which Glinda could unfortunately only provide unsatisfactory answers. She finally was silenced by the dimming lights.
During intermission Glinda tried to excuse herself, hoping to use the restroom, but her mother told her sternly to hold it in for the sake of not spoiling her gown. Luckily, Glinda had merely sought to escape further conversations with the Chuffreys and was not, in fact, in dire need of relief. Her mother's forbiddance vexed her nonetheless.
They met in the foyer to discuss the first half of the production, but after a few moments of idle chatter, the parents invented a pretext to leave their children alone for the remainder of the interval.
"So," Glinda began, then exhaled and briefly looked away. "Don't you think it would be better if we changed our business arrangements back to the way they were?"
"Why?" he challenged playfully. "Do you think our personal relationship would get in the way of our professional dealings?"
"We do not have a personal relationship," she corrected him firmly. "But don't you think it would be pretty awkward?"
He shrugged.
"No, not really."
Annoyed, she crossed her arms, however on the other side of the room she spotted her mother, watching her. Out of fear for her reprimands, she hurriedly dropped her arms and folded her hands before her.
"Look, I'm sorry to waste your time, but this isn't working. I'm not letting my mother set me up with whatever rich gent she can rustle up."
"I agree their strategy is poor," he allowed, "but our parents mean well, and the least we can do is to get to know each other."
"Goodness, what a splendid son you are!" Glinda exclaimed. "Well, I for my part know you about as well as I could ever wish to," she protested, although as mildly as she could manage. "Please don't take it personally, but I am definitely not interested. All I need is to get through this evening without upsetting my mother and causing any more family drama. Please be so good and don't make this harder than it needs to be."
Torias opened his mouth so say something, but was interrupted when the bell rang. Glinda inclined her head and made to turn away from him, when he urgently said her name and reached for her wrist.
"May I suggest then that we at least pretend to get along?" he proposed, speaking under his breath.
Warily, she considered his suggestion.
"What did you have in mind?"
"Nothing much, but perhaps you'd allow me to escort you to your seat?"
After a clock-tick of hesitation, she silently nodded. Torias offered his arm to her, which she reluctantly accepted.
The end of the performance was unfortunately not the end of Glinda's evening. Fesander, seeing as the youngsters appeared to get on so well, promptly invited Glinda and her mother to a late dinner. Glinda now regretted to have ever agreed to Torias' idea. Not only was she obliged to sit beside him, pretending to be interested in his talk about horse racing, she also had to force herself to dismiss any discomfort caused by his proximity and occasional, though seemingly unintentional, touch.
When the dinner at long last was drawing to a close, Glinda felt not only exhausted, but absolutely shattered. Her would-be suitor offered to help her with her chair and her throw. Mustering every last ounce of her resolve, she put on a brilliant smile and thanked him graciously. Fesander hailed the ladies a cab. He first kissed Larena's cheek, then shook Glinda's hand with a small bow. When it was Torias' turn to wish her goodnight, he leaned in to place a light peck on her cheek, but – by mistake or not – landed his lips awfully close to her lips. An intense involuntary shiver shook Glinda at the sensation, and her breath hitched. Concerned, he took a step back.
"Are you cold?" he asked, already raising his hands to shrug off his coat.
"I'm fine," she objected, her voice trembling. "Just a little tired."
"Nonsense," her mother laughed.
She once again thanked the gentlemen for the fantastic evening and ushered her daughter into the waiting car.
"I'm sorry," Glinda murmured after a long moment of silence.
Larena turned her head to consider her – critically at first, but to Glinda's surprise, her frown soon turned into a smile.
"You did quite well tonight, my dear."
Glinda nodded dutifully, but deep inside she felt a sharp pang, when she realised that her mother's praise, no matter how hard-won, meant nothing to her.
