The twins each had mixed feelings about seeing Mr. Loring again, but Bette had more optimism and was more bright-eyed about the matter. Dot was skeptical and full of doubt; she had always been like that, a dark soul in her own mind and heart, a complete contrast of her bubbly, almost-too-naïve-to-function sister. Bette made sure her hair looked its best, even if it was a plain hairstyle, and that the dress they shared was clean. Jimmy managed to drive them down the center of town, and even helped them out of his truck, holding Dot's hand and letting them step down like Cinderella at the ball. Bette giggled with excitement, smiling at her sister and back at Jimmy.
"Thank you so much, Jimmy," she said.
"Anytime. I'll be back to pick you up at, say, five," he offered.
"Sounds good!" the kind twin exclaimed.
The twins looked around, receiving unwelcome stares from passersby as they entered the coffeehouse; it was Saturday, but surprisingly, it was not entirely busy. Bette got a glance of Mr. Loring, wearing a fine black suit with a gray and slate-striped tie and his Stetson atop his graying, but full head of hair. His blue eyes looked over at the conjoined twins and he smiled, standing up from seat and grabbing Bette's hand into his own.
"You look lovely, ladies," he said.
"Oh, stop," Bette said, being coy as she blushed.
"I got you some Italian roast. Espresso. On the house," he said with a smile.
"Oh, isn't that sweet," Bette said with a smile. Dot glared at her sister, but yet she never had Italian roast. Ever. What did she have to lose?
When the barista brought the coffee, he also brought soft, flat rolls frosted with chocolate and pink sprinkles along with various kinds of donuts on a large, silver platter. Bette gasped down at the sweets brought to them, but Dot simply took a plain, honey-glazed donut without saying a word. Her twin smiled at Mr. Loring, whose gaze was as charming as the way he spoke to them.
"Oh, what a treat!" she exclaimed.
"All for you, ladies," he said, a sly grin hidden behind his joyful expression. "Dig in."
Bette did not hesitate to take a chocolate-frosted sweet roll with sprinkles and two donuts; they were soft enough for her to break in half with her one hand. Mr. Loring, taken by Bette and her carefree, bubbly outlook, kept the grin on his face as he watched her take food from the platter he paid good money for. Bette looked back at him, taking a dainty bite of the frosted, sprinkled sweet roll and savoring the delicious taste of the saccharine dough that made it up.
"This is one of the best sweet rolls I've ever had," she said, keeping her first bite in her left cheek so she could talk clearly.
"Have you had 'em before?" he asked, leaning forward with his elbow on the table, sipping the espresso that was served to him; it was black but had a pinch of sugar.
"Brit—" She indeed called the lady of the farm by her first name because they had known each other for a long time, but when speaking about her to someone else with never any ill will, she used her married title out of respect. "Mrs. Darling makes them every December. They're a favorite in her country. She makes 'em for the feast of Saint Lucia."
"I met her yesterday at the farmer's market. She is…" He sighed with incredulity, still amazed at how young she looked at her age. "Ageless. Absolutely beautiful. They should be paintin' pictures of her for the Louvre."
"She is a good lady," Bette replied, putting the sweet roll down to sip her coffee. "But the Louvre, you say. Have you been there?"
"Yes, indeed," Mr. Loring said. "I saw the Mona Lisa."
"Mona Lisa?" Bette was getting excited, but it got on Dot's nerves—she was bored out of her mind. If only I were a separate person, she thought to herself.
"Yes, it was a wee thing. Only this big," he said, making gestures to describe its size as he had seen it in person. Bette noticed he was hinting at it to be quite small—she smiled brightly, taking another sip of her Italian-roast espresso.
"It must've been a lovely sight to see," she replied dreamily. Dot rolled her eyes, taking a bite of her donut and sipping her coffee.
"It sure was, but not as lovely as a paintin' of two ladies sitting before me right now," he said. Bette blushed, but he continued. "Maybe on one of my luxurious chairs in my study, wearin' emerald silk, holdin' a red rose near your chin."
"Oh, you are a charmer, Mr. Loring," Bette asked.
"You married?" Dot asked. It had been the first words out of her mouth the entire time.
"Oh, no," Mr. Loring said sadly, removing his Stetson hat as if to pay respects. "My wife died after my son was born."
"I'm so sorry," Bette asked, covering her mouth with her hand. Poor thing, she thought.
"Have you two ever had a…well…spouse?" he asked. The twins glanced at each other, but Dot took the liberty of answering even though she had no interest in the older gentleman.
"No," she said, maintaining a somber tone of voice. "Does it look like we ever could marry a man? Think about it."
"He'd be one lucky son o'gun," Mr. Loring smiled, slapping his knee casually. "Two ladies, one man, one weddin'. Ain't nothin' better. Even the Bible says it."
"You're a man of God, Mr. Loring?" Bette asked, smiling.
"Sure am, and 'til the day I die," he said with enthusiasm. "Even when it ain't Sunday and I got nothin' else to do, I go to church. And…" He paused, regaining his train of thought. "Oh yeah! The Bible has many men who took more than one wife."
"Oh?" Bette was very curious; this man was not only charming and generous to her and her sister, but he was religious. The conjoined sisters had gone to church every Sunday with Britta and the children growing up. Jimmy never cared to go—he wasn't as religious as his wife, and she listened to Mr. Loring as if he were her preacher and she and Dot his congregation.
"Ever hear of Abijah?" he asked. When the twins shook their heads, he explained himself further. "Chronicles 13:21. But Abijah grew mighty. And he took fourteen wives and had twenty-two sons and sixteen daughters. Yes! I quote it! I only had one wife, but…looking at what I have in front of me, I would consider taking two at once."
"We aren't property," Dot sneered coldly, directing her unfeeling eyes toward the older gentleman—shehated when people brought up religion. It just bore her to tears. He changed the subject quickly, looking at the twins with a strange passion in his blue eyes, but he directed it more at Bette.
"You met my son, David, I believe," he assumed.
"Yes," Bette said, finishing her sweet roll and washing that remainder down with a swig of coffee.
"Between you and me," Mr. Loring whispered, leaning in and looking at the twins. "That girl bewitched my son."
"Who?" Bette acted dumb on purpose, and Dot just glared at her and the older gentleman, hearing what kind of smack she was foretelling in her head he would say.
"The daughter of Mr. Darling," he whispered, seeing a few customers walk into the establishment and sit at seats—it had suddenly gotten busier.
"Elina?" Dot asked.
"Yes, her," Mr. Loring said. "Don't think I'm rubbin' your family the wrong way, but…my son wouldn't stop talkin' about her all night last night. Even at dinner, he was expressin' how much he wanted to see her again." He paused, taking a different direction. "Idle boys are the ones who get lustful stirrin's, and my son goes to school everyday. He even plays football. He's far from idle. I just don't understand how he could fall under the curse of lust like that."
"It probably ain't lust," Bette contradicted. "He probably likes her. Love at first sight, perhaps."
"Mr. Darling don't allow Elina to see boys," Dot said, going against her bubbly sister's encouragement of his thoughts on his son's sudden infatuation with Jimmy's ethereal, beautiful youngest daughter. "She's only thirteen."
"Well, then," he said, leaning back. "Mr. Darling's a good father. I assured him my son was raised a gentleman. In fact, my son is close to perfect."
"Elina almost died as a baby. She was born too early," Bette explained, looking down at the last sip left in her coffee cup. "The moment her father first held her, he cried. She was the most beautiful child." She went in a daze. "Stars for eyes, blonde hairs on her head, skin like marble. Just…beautiful."
"Like the baby Jesus. She survived. A miracle child." He sipped his coffee and paused a bit, a slight smile in his lips. "Between you and me," he leaned in again, whispering. "She's too beautiful to exist here on earth. In fact, she's so beautiful, she's freakish. Freakishly beautiful. Hair like virgin snow, skin fair and flawless as a goddess, a face carved to perfection by angels, lips pink as a peony, and eyes that burn like…hellfire." Bette looked at him as he continued, her smile turning to a blank stare. "Even her father is freakish. I shook his hand yesterday, and…his deformity is grotesque. I bet the poor man wishes he had normal hands like everyone else. Poor fella. I can't help but feel sorry for him."
Dot felt offended—how dare he insult their family in such a crude way? He started out as being nice, but now he was crossing the line; she even saw an anguished look on Bette's face. They hadn't heard the word 'freak' in so long they almost forgot what it meant and how people defined them in that way based off their own ignorance. She felt so tempted to scald the man with what was left of her coffee, ruining his suit that had cost god knows how much. Her heart raced, and she bit her lower lip, but tried to be assertive but forceful.
"How dare you?" she sneered.
"What?" he asked.
"You insult our family," Dot replied. "What makes you think that's a smart thing to do?"
"I don't mean disrespect," he said, waving his hands in front of him. Bette felt torn between her sister and Mr. Loring—she always chose her sister above all, but the uncertainty of the escalating situation made her feel ill at ease.
"It's too late for that," Dot retorted, looking at Bette. "C'mon. We're leavin'."
"You can't be serious, Miss Tattler," Mr. Loring said, watching the conjoined sisters stand up and walk rapidly toward the door. He followed them close behind, trying to prevent them from leaving his sight. He did mean what he said, but he didn't want his opinions to ruin his chances with the Tattler sisters.
"Wait! Please! Ladies! Ladies!" he called out. Bette looked back, but Dot grunted and got her attention.
"Stop! He's sorry," the kind twin pleaded, trying to make her sister cooperate and stop in their tracks. Mr. Loring, determined to make them forgive him, sprinted up toward them, but before they could get a chance to stop, he gripped Bette's hand, causing her to gasp and stare at him with fear.
"I am so sorry, ladies," he said apologetically. Dot's hand reached up and slapped him right across the cheek so hard it left a red palm print when he went to feel it.
"You're the freak!" Dot snapped, channeling her anger into him as she gritted her teeth. "Trying to parade sweets and kindness to us only to tear us down!"
"Mr. Loring," Bette said, reaching her hand up to feel where her sister had slapped him clean across the face. "I'm sorry 'bout my sister…"
"I'm not," Dot said, a sour look on her stone-cold face. Mr. Loring looked at her and shook his head; he was determined to get both twins on good terms with him.
"Dot, I know you're upset, but I'm real sorry I said those things. I wasn't thinkin', and I got carried away. I hope…I hope that…" He took Dot's hand, trying to smooth things over in the best way he could; he had a remarkable silver tongue, "you can forgive me. Let's put it behind us. Pretend it never happened."
She looked at him with such a glare that it killed her inside—what was she, let alone she and Bette included, to do?