In Manhattan, Erik entered Cartier's flagship jewelry store. Such was his presence, whether he wore his body armor or a well-tailored suit as he did that Sunday, that the salesman jumped to attention.
"Good afternoon, sir. Welcome to Cartier's. What may I help you with today?"
"I would like to see some pieces from one of your signature lines. Something not too formal, which a woman of taste and sophistication might wear any day."
"I see. What age is the lady in question, if I might ask?"
"Forty-seven." Not, in other words, my baby-doll, thank you very much.
"Very good. Thank you, sir. If you would care to step this way…"
Sephora wasn't simply a beauty store; it was the beauty store. The biggest selection of products all brought together in a single, huge storefront.
Grace favored classic scents for the most part—Shalimar by Guerlain, Opium by Yves Saint Laurent, and L'Air du Temps by Nina Ricci, but she liked CK one and Sugar by Fresh as well, for a change of pace.
She browsed around the Philosophy display while Rogue peeled off her gloves and tried out the Demeter fragrances—a line which specialized in unusual 'environmental' scents, such as 'Laundromat', 'Angel Food Cake', and 'Gingerale'. Wanda was trailing behind, and she took over where Rogue left off, while Rogue caught up with Grace in the skincare aisle.
"I've tried others," Grace commented idly, putting several bottles and jars into her shopping basket, "but I always go back to the standards: Cetaphil and Oil of Olay. Oofh! Let me stay upwind of you. You went a little crazy with the testers." The girl smelled of half-a-dozen different fragrances.
"Sorry." Rogue stepped back.
"That's all right. You're young. I loaded myself up with so many different perfumes once my mother drove home with all the car windows down. In February, no less."
Rogue smiled. "It's funny, you know. You're older than mah momma, but you don't seem like it."
"Maybe that's because I'm not anybody's mother—yet. When I consider that I'm going to be over sixty when he's ready for college, I want to laugh and cry at the same time."
They turned into the make-up aisle. "What do you think of this?" Rogue held up a quartet of eye shadows, a subtly rich palette of brown: copper, bronze, taupe, and a silver-beige.
"For you or for me?"
"For me."
"No. What works for forty-seven doesn't work for seventeen—and vice versa. Go for Urban Decay or Hard Candy, they're made for young faces. Don't put that one back; I'll take it."
"All right…"
Wanda was still several steps behind. Grace was in the center of the aisle, Rogue up at the far end, and Wanda at the back, when the doves on the L'Air Du Temps box twittered and sang, "Watch out, it's the five finger discount!"
She immediately looked in Rogue's direction. "Not her!" sang the birds.
Wanda? Grace used the mirror on a display to watch behind her as Wanda slipped a couple of lipsticks into her purse. Oh, great. Erik said she and her brother were the best shoplifting team in Europe back when they were in their teens. He never said she was still doing it…He can't know about it. He would leave debris all over the landscape if he did.
"I'm about done here, how about you?" She hurried up to the front of the store.
It didn't escape her notice that a well-dressed woman—probably the store manager—was loitering around the counter—or that a security guard was hanging around outside it nonchalantly, not even looking in. Of course they won't grab her until she walks out of the store. She won't have committed a crime until then, technically. How do I handle this? I'm sure she's going to use her power to cause a disaster and let her get away…
…but she'll still get caught on camera. And there'll be a big mess about a mutant incident at the Salem Center Mall.
"Mend what is broken!" The doves interrupted her train of thought. That sure is their favorite phrase.
There was another woman in front of her; Rogue and Wanda waited with her until her turn came. She unloaded her basket, which was quite full, and then turned to Wanda. "You still have the things you were carrying for me, right?"
"What?" Wanda was genuinely nonplussed.
"Two Shiseido lipsticks..."
"A bottle of 'Wet Garden' cologne spray, a jar of La Mer moisturizer, and a Jo Malone scented candle." the doves told her.
"…a bottle of 'Wet Garden' cologne spray, a jar of La Mer—."
"Yes!" Erik's daughter opened her purse and started unloading her shoplifted items onto the counter with angry, jerky movements. As she hauled out item after item, Grace caught a glimpse of shimmering scarlet chenille, with black fringes.
That's my scarf. The one Jubilee described as being 'so Captain Sparrow.' Wanda stole from me.
Why?
Why is she stealing from Sephora now?
Wanda finished, and strode out of the store angrily. Grace gave the cashier Erik's card. "You'll have to punch in the numbers, because the strip doesn't work." She saw the store manager nod in her direction. "I'm sorry." she apologized to the woman. "I didn't…"
"I understand. You and your daughter" (She means Rogue?!) will be welcome customers here whenever you want to shop. Would you like a separate bag for those items?" The manager was tactful, but clear. Don't bring your friend next time.
"Please." Grace signed the credit card slip, and then it was Rogue's turn.
"I'm going to go after her." She told the girl. "Do you have enough money?"
"Ah'm all right. You go." She left the store.
Wanda was pacing around by a fountain when Grace caught up to her. "Wanda…" Instead of talking, the woman turned and walked away.
"Wanda!" All right. This makes three Lensherrs I've wanted to bean with a shoe. This time I'm going to do it.
Grace pulled off her shoe and let fly, throwing not to injure, just to hurt a little. Years of playing with three brothers, not to mention several nieces and nephews, had left her with a decent pitching arm, so her footgear connected solidly with Wanda's head and bounced off.
"Oh!" Erik's daughter stopped dead, and whirled. "You hit me! You threw a shoe at me!"
"Sure did. Now let's talk."
"Why? Because you're going to tell on me if I don't?"
"No. Because I have another shoe. You won't like what I'll do with it if you don't. There's a coffee shop. Let's go sit."
"You are such a cow." Wanda spat.
"Hey, you're a klepto, so where do you get off?" That was Rogue, hurrying to catch up. She retrieved Grace's shoe, and together they went inside.
Wanda followed, reluctantly.
"All right. Let this one be an object lesson to you." Grace told Rogue as they got in line. Wanda sat sulkily at a table in the corner. "If you do learn how to listen, and what they have you doing is anything like what they want me to do, you're going to learn things about people that you cannot, and I mean cannot repeat. Whatever comes out now stays strictly among the three of us. No repeats of last night."
"You don't have to worry about me. Ah've learned mah lesson."
"Have you apologized to him yet?"
"No—." The young woman shifted from one foot to another. "Ah figured Ah'd wait and do it tonight at dinner. You know, cause Ah went and mouthed off in front of everybody, Ah ought to apologize the same way."
"As long as you're sure you're not just avoiding it."
Rogue looked up at her in surprise. "You're a born mother, aren't you? Your kid's not gonna get away with anything."
"Oh, I'm sure he'll come up with a way. I know I got around my mother."
They had reached the counter. "Yes—I'll have a tea-lemonade, please—and one of those smoked turkey sandwiches. And a piece of apple cake." The baby is hungry too, apparently. Lunch wasn't that long ago, but she found she was ravenous. "Order what you like, Rogue. Wanda?" She called over to the other woman as Rogue requested a frozen hazelnut-vanilla latte and a lemon bar. "What'll you have?"
"Nothing!"
"She'll have a tall French roast and a piece of chocolate cake." That was the monkey on the side of a bag of coffee beans.
"Plus a tall French roast and a piece of chocolate cake as well." Grace told the barista.
"Coming right up."
Rogue helped carry the food; Wanda gave Grace the strangest look when the coffee and cake were set in front of her. "How did you know…?"
"Oh, the voices in my head told me." A man at the next table gave her a funny look. "I have mental problems." she told him, airily, and smiled at him. He got up and moved away.
"Ah don't believe you just say things like that." Rogue said, a certain admiration in her voice.
"It gets easier all the time." Grace took the Sephora bag with Wanda's selections and handed it to her. "These are yours."
"I don't want them!" Wanda struck the bag from her hand; Grace retrieved it, and checked to make sure nothing was broken.
"These lipsticks are all wrong for you, anyway." She took them out of the bag. "They're too yellow a red. It's because Shiseido is a Japanese manufacturer. Their products are meant for people with golden skintones. Your complexion is too pink—you need a blue-red or a neutral red. Rogue, you like those Demeter fragrances—do you want the 'Wet Garden' cologne?"
"Sure!" the teen said, taking the bottle.
"Don't mock me. How can you sit there and talk like this?" Wanda was scowling.
"Because I'm trying to think of what else to say. I'd really rather not be having this conversation right now, thank you."
Rogue kept quiet, looking from one to the other as they sniped at each other.
"Then why are you bothering?"
"Because I don't have a choice, and that means you don't have a choice. I'm supposed to help you. Now, obviously stealing right in front of not only all the store cameras, but in front of me, the woman who the universe likes to dump everybody else's problems on, was a cry for help. So I'm going to start by asking—What do you want that you can't get any other way but by shoplifting? It can't be the merchandise. Especially since you just rejected it."
"Leave me alone!"
"Uh-uh. Now I know your father's ethics are somewhat… flexible," Grace went on.
"You got that right!" snorted Rogue.
"—but I doubt he would be pleased to see that camera footage on the six-o'clock news, while the talking head goes on about an m-word incident in the Salem Center Mall. If it were an act of protest, sure. I think he'd be behind you all the way right on up to assassination, but not shoplifting cosmetics. For that matter, I don't think it would rest well with your brother either. If you don't talk to me about this now, I'm going to have to go to them, because you have a problem."
Silence. Grace ate some of her sandwich, and swallowed. "If you want your father's attention, all you would have to do is give him some of yours. If you want your brother's attention—Oh, God. Don't tell me there's some horrible Flowers in the Attic stuff in your past. I don't think I could cope with that."
"Flowers in the Attic? You mean—?" Rogue's lips formed the word incest. "With her brother?"
"Nothing of the kind." The lion spoke up from her purse.
"No! How can you think that? What kind of mind do you have?" Wanda protested.
"Well, I don't know what to think, since you're not communicating with me. It's a relief that there isn't, though."
A painted wooden toucan hanging on the wall as a decoration flapped its wings. "Tell her the only way your child can take her place is if she doesn't take it herself." It sounded Jamaican.
"You know," Grace relayed smoothly, "the only way my baby can take your place—or your brother's—is if you don't take it yourself. I have three brothers, eight nieces, and six nephews, and I love them all. I even like my sisters-in-law. Hearts are surprisingly elastic. No matter how many people you fit into one, you'll find you can fit even more."
Wanda's reply was a long groan. "How can you seem so kind and understanding even when I know you're faking it?"
"Faking it? Who says I'm faking it? I'll be the first to admit I'm not crazy about this situation, but I'm doing my best here." Grace drank her tea-lemonade.
"Mystique was their medic, and her attitude was that if nothing was broken and there wasn't any blood, they shouldn't bother her about it." the toucan added.
Oh. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm not—Misty. You might try not reacting to me as if I were."
"Then what are you doing with him? If you are as nice and normal as you seem, you would be running for the hills, not living with him. He uses people."
"She is right about that." Rogue put in.
"See? She knows. You might think he loves you—he might even think he loves you—but he doesn't. He can't love. He can't love anybody." Wanda picked up her coffee in both hands, as if to warm them, and took a long sip.
"Now I think we're getting to the heart of the situation. First I'm the evil one, and you don't want him getting involved with me. Now he's the evil one, and I shouldn't be involved with him. Maybe neither of us is that bad, and neither of us needs protecting. And if he didn't love you, he wouldn't have spent years trying to keep a connection open between you."
"He killed my mother." Wanda looked up, her eyes burning.
"Your mother killed herself, Wanda. She hadn't seen him in months, he had no idea where she was, and he had no idea you existed. I know that's a hard one to live with, but I suspect that once you accept that, you'll be able to forgive him—and her. Maybe you'll even be able to forgive yourself."
Wanda started to cry.
"I can think of something worse." Callisto said. "Knowing there could be a future, but being too nihilistic or apathetic to get off your ass and do your part to make it happen."
"I never said I wasn't going to do my part! I just said it scared the shit out of me!" Pyro was stung.
"That's all right, then." Callisto got up and stretched.
"Yeah," Bobby added. "All we can do is our part. And at least now we have some idea what it is."
That night after dinner, once Erik and Grace were alone together in his room, as the attic wasn't quite ready for occupants yet, once they had talked about the day each of them had had, (she did not tell him about Wanda's escapade) after he showed her the print-outs on the four properties he was considering, and talked about the pros and cons of each, yet before any clothing came off, he put his hand inside his jacket, and brought a box out of the inner pocket.
"It's nothing very big," he warned her, "so you needn't get flustered or feel awkward. Also, in its way, it's a very practical gift for you." He gave her the box.
"Cartier's?" She knew enough about jewelry to know that 'nothing very big' was relative, and Cartier's was a king of the jewelry world. But it was the wrong size and shape for a ring box—too flat and too rectangular. She undid the ribbon, and took the velvet covered box out of the cardboard one.
Opening it, she beheld a flat, round pendant on a black silk cord. It was gold, the rich, deep color of 18 karat gold, and on it was a panther head in three-quarter profile, black onyx spots against the gold, and a vivid green jewel for an eye. "Mrowwwww. Helllo!" it growled, in a cultivated British voice.
Erik was watching her anxiously. "I thought that you might not always be able to take an animal with you in your purse, and that you might like one which wasn't quite so childish. If you don't like it, or if your voices won't speak through it for some reason, I'm sure it could be returned or exchanged."
She was speechless for a moment. I'm never going to get over this one. I got over Jack. I fell out of love with Aaron—and with Colin, let's face it. My pride was wounded more than my heart where Jeremy was concerned. But this is the one that's going to last for the rest of my life. This is it. He is it.
Her eyes were suddenly wet and stinging, so she swiped at them clumsily, like a child. "No, he's beautiful. He already spoke up and said 'Hello.' I need a tissue…Thank you," she said, as he handed her one.
I'm almost angry, which is stupid, but so is everything about this relationship. It started as a bar-pick up and wasn't supposed to be anything but a one-night-stand, and now—now we're having a baby and living together, and we haven't even spent seven consecutive days together, and he surprises me with this…
"I never told you what it means that you took my voices seriously from the moment you heard about them. You never even looked at me funny, as bizarre and ridiculous as this power is…"
"Here now—you're crying in earnest. I didn't think I'd make you cry like this. Let me get my jacket off, and you can cry into my shirt all you like…"
"…and this has to be the most thoughtful present anybody has ever given me in my life."
And I love you.
That part she didn't say.
Not yet.
