Time, Death & Scar Tissue...

33. First Impressions

Kathryn had spent all evening wanting to get there and now that they were in the driveway she just wanted to leave again. The driver had taken their bags to the door already and Bridey was motioning them inside. Her heart was pounding and gripped his proffered hand a little tighter than usual as she stepped out of the car.

Technically the red brick house was too big for one person. Even with Bridey living in one could almost hear the rattle as they moved around. Still it was much smaller than Lucien's 'retreat' and her grandmother was not inclined to move. He stroked her back softly as they climbed the steps.

“Well it's about time, get yourselves in here before you catch your death.” Bridey smiled and hugged Kathryn quickly as she ushered them inside. She shut out the wind and snow before taking their coats, and Kathryn noticed the odd look she gave Lucien. She brushed it aside as nerves. Minerva appeared from out of the sitting room and embraced Kathryn without a word. The older woman was only slightly shorter than her granddaughter.

“I'm so glad to see you.” Kathryn said softly as she held the older woman tightly.

“I'm glad you made it. I heard on the news that they closed the airport. I don't think I could stand the anticipation another day.” Kathryn could feel his eyes on her, and she could tell that a little smile was in them. She stepped back from the hug after a moment.

“Grandmother, Bridey, this is Lucien LaCroix.” He stepped forward and Minerva took both his hands in hers. “Lucien, Minerva Bettancourt and Bridey Kirk.” He nodded at Bridey, but barely looked at her.

“A pleasure to meet you in person, Mrs. Bettancourt.” He said. Kathryn could tell that they were studying each other. Both were silent for a moment and Kathryn was certain that the world itself stopped for that time.

“Please, call me Minerva. Not Minnie, I hate that.” Minerva smiled and the world began to turn again.

“If you will call me Lucien.” Minerva nodded and dropped his hands before turning to Kathryn, her eyes appraising.

“You look as though you need to freshen up a bit. Why don't you go up with Bridey, she'll show you your room.”

Kathryn could see that she was being gotten out of the way for a few minutes and she knew that there was nothing she could do about it. She resorted to stalling.

“It's not the same room I always sleep in?” She moved slowly toward the stairs.

“No. You told me about your unusual schedule and since I want you to be comfortable while you're here this room has no windows. That way you won't be disturbed by the daylight.” Minerva shooed Kathryn up the stairs. “Now go settle in.”

Kathryn couldn't think of anything else to say to keep her downstairs so she took one of the bags from Bridey. She knew the room her grandmother was talking about, she had never known anyone to actually sleep in it though. When she younger she thought it was haunted, as she got older she realized most people liked to at least have a window in their room. That was until she met Lucien. Even at his retreat the windows in the bedroom were closed off by solid shutters and heavy drapes. There simply weren't any in the apartment. It was one of those odd things about him, and one of those things that seemed to matter less and less as time went on.

“I was railroaded, wasn't I?” She said as she watched her grandmother lead Lucien into the sitting room.

“You were, but did you expect anything else?” Bridey said, setting the bags inside the guest room and starting to unpack for Kathryn. It was larger than her room and decidedly less pink.

“No, I guess not. Did she tell you how long you were supposed to keep me occupied?” Kathryn opened Lucien’s bag and started hanging his things in the closet. She had noticed how meticulous he could be and she had a better chance of getting it right than Bridey did. She was also fairly certain that he would be more forgiving if she got it wrong.

“Half and hour at least. I figured that would be about how long it took to get you two settled in.” Bridey said with a small smile.

“So when did she redecorate?” She asked. The sickly sweet floral bedspread and contrasting modern lacquer bedroom furniture had been replaced by a sleigh bed and matching dresser, end tables and blanket chest. The bedspread was jewel toned stripes, which were repeated on the throw pillows on the loveseat.

“Soon as she talked to him that night after Thanksgiving. I think she was just looking for an excuse.” Bridey clucked her tongue and refolding Kathryn's underwear before putting it away.

“Well you have to admit, the stuff that was in here was pretty ugly.” Kathryn closed her eyes and tried to picture his closet. She had only been in it twice so that was easier said than done, but she wanted it to be at least close to how he had it.

“There was nothing wrong with any of it, just because you don't like the look of something doesn't mean it's useless.” Bridey said, Kathryn felt as if she was being lectured.

“I'm sure she didn't just throw it away.” She replied.

“No.” Bridey had to admit.

“Then someone is using it, just not us.” Kathryn smiled.

“I still think she was trying to impress him.” Bridey nodded in the general direction of downstairs. “And that's vanity no matter how you look at it.”

“I haven't known her to try and impress anyone by redecorating.” Kathryn laughed a little at the idea. The way Bridey was talking though, there was more to it than what she thought of as the sins of wastefulness and vanity. “So what do you think of him Bridey?” She asked casually, struggling a little to get one of his jackets to hang right on the hanger.

“Ain't my place to throw my two cents in.” She responded. The answer surprised Kathryn. Bridey knew she was like family.

“You only say that when you don't want to answer.” She said.

“Well, I suppose there's something you like about him. Personally though, he gives me the willies.” Kathryn was shocked.

“You only met him a few minutes ago, don't you think that's a little harsh?” Kathryn took several things into the bathroom. The utilitarian tub and shower was nothing like his luxurious tub, but that just meant she would be that much more anxious to have a bath with him when they got home. It struck her that she had never thought of his apartment as 'home' before.

“You asked what I thought. He's sorta like one of them guys who everybody says is a good neighbor and then he turns out to have pieces of three wives in the freezer.” Bridey finished at the bureau and she moved over to the closet.

“I'm pretty sure you're wrong about the last part Bridey.” Kathryn laughed softly. “He does have a weird affect on some people though, just get to know him.”

“Like I said, there must be something about him that you like. And I know Mrs. B. has been looking forward to meeting him ever since you first mentioned him. He’s been all she could talk about the last few weeks.”

“Really?” Kathryn was a little surprised to hear that her grandmother had been that excited.

“Yes really. Now that I see him I don’t know why she’s all fired up about having you with him, but I suppose that ain’t any of my business either.” She hung the last of Kathryn’s things. “Your dress came the day before yesterday; it’s in your grandmother’s room.”

“Thanks Bridey.” Kathryn looked around and found there wasn’t anything else to do.

“I need to see to the tea. Give her a few more minutes if you can.” Bridey said.

“If you want to just get it ready, I’ll take it in.” Kathryn said.

“Mrs. B. would have a blue fit-“

“Nonsense, I don’t think the world will come to an end if I serve the tea instead of you. Besides, you’ve probably been up since before six. Go and get some sleep.” Kathryn brushed aside her protests.

“It’ll be in the kitchen, and thank you.” Bridey smiled a little.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

LaCroix supposed he shouldn't have been so surprised with the way Minerva greeted him, or with the sharp appraisal in her eyes as she studied him. He also wasn't entirely surprised that her heart was pounding, even though on the surface she appeared to be perfectly calm. Perhaps it was Minerva who had taught Kathryn her secrets to exterior serenity.

The sitting room she led him into was large, comfortable, and stereotypically what one would picture when thinking of an old woman's parlor, but it was the portraits on the walls that drew his attention. He could tell that that they had been rendered by different hands in different eras, but the same woman could have posed for all of them.

“My daughter Octavia isn't here.” Minerva said. She had been silent, allowing him to study the portraits. “Thomas, Kathryn's father, keeps her portrait. It infuriates his new wife; I suppose that's why I haven't asked for it back.”

“You dislike Mira?” He met her direct brown eyes and she smiled a bit. He could sense her calming down a bit.

“No, Mira is too stupid to actively dislike. Thomas is a different matter though. You will excuse my frankness, but he was beneath my daughter and he is beneath my granddaughter.”

“Is he?” His tone was impassive, hiding any indication of agreement. He let his eyes settle on a draped painting.

“I'm sure that Kathryn has shown you his photo, certainly you can tell by his look.” He reached out and found Minerva's mind as closed as Kathryn's had been. He smiled slightly and she turned back to the paintings. “Allow me to introduce you, so to speak. My mother, Claudia. My grandmother, Livilla, great-grandmother Drusilla and my great-great-grandmother Augusta Julia.” She paused, giving him a moment to study the paintings. “This one is new.” She moved over to the draped painting and removed the cloth.

LaCroix's eyes widened slightly. The other portraits were just that, simple portraits of sitting subjects. All were done by skilled artists, but they weren't unique in any way. The new one showed a dark night lit by a full moon. Kathryn stood amid the tumbled stones and broken columns of an ancient ruin dressed like a visiting goddess. There was a hint of sadness around her challenging eyes, tendrils of her auburn hair caressed her pale shoulders and framed her face. The skin tone was precisely the shade of fine alabaster he hoped she would acquire after her conversion. He could sense Minerva was waiting for his reaction.

“It's an incredible likeness.” He found that he had to force himself to look away from the painting. “When did she pose for it?”

“She didn't. She doesn't even know it exists yet. The artist is a good friend of mine and I was able to convince him to work from photos and a few personal meetings. She's told you about her mother?”

“Yes, the pain is still very fresh for her.” Minerva nodded and draped the painting again.

“For all of us who loved her. Anyway, Octavia was diagnosed three weeks after her portrait was finished. Kathryn became superstitious about it and I wasn't able to convince her to sit.” She fussed with the fabric for a few minutes and it seemed to LaCroix she was gathering her thoughts or possibly her courage. Finally she turned to face him again. “It terrifies her you know, the thought of wasting away like that, or seeing it happen to someone else she loves. To be perfectly honest though, the prospect of seeing her ravaged by age or illness breaks my heart as well. At least this way I have her captured at her most perfect.” Her eyes were direct and focused on his and for a moment LaCroix almost believed that she knew exactly what she was saying and who she was saying it to. It was impossible of course.

“Please, sit.” She said finally, breaking the moment.

“Her name seems like a break with tradition somehow.” He sat on a sofa opposite of the one she chose. Minerva was still appraising and so was he.

“It is and it isn't. Not everyone in the family is named that way, just very specific women. I won't bore you with the details. You do realize that Kathryn is rather willful?” He laughed softly and so did she. Her heart registered her fading anxiety. “Silly question. My daughter was just as headstrong. My mother and I were able to convince her to choose a proper middle name for Kathryn, but that was the best we could do. Hasn't she told you?”

“No, but I haven't made a point of asking either.” With each passing moment he sensed her inner calm moving into accord with her exterior calm.

“She hates it, so I'll let her tell you herself. Kathryn tells me that the two of you met at some sort of club you own.” She sat back now.

“Yes. She came in with her friend Corrina.” He saw Minerva shudder a bit and realized his feelings about Corrina were mutual.

“Well, I suppose the girl should be credited for doing something right. You don't seem like you would fit in to one of Corrina's haunts though.”

“The club is a business interest that tends to require more oversight than my other investments. I rarely spend much time circulating with the patrons, but something about Kathryn caught my attention.” He smiled slightly and Minerva returned the small smile.

“Probably the fact that she wanted to hide under the table.” Minerva laughed softly. “Kathryn is quite comfortable at the symphony or the museum, but activities usually enjoyed by people her own age tend to be rather off-putting to her.”

“Thank you Grandmother. It's always nice when your family portrays you as recluse.” Kathryn came in carrying a white china tea service on a tray. LaCroix rose as she entered, noting that she had changed her blouse, brushed out her hair and caught it in a clip at the nape of her neck. She also seemed to look more relaxed.

“Kathryn, I didn't raise you to be a domestic. Where's Bridey?” LaCroix noticed frustration in Minerva's voice, as if Kathryn was doing something mildly embarrassing.

“In bed I hope.” Kathryn responded, ignoring Minerva's tone all together. She prepared a cup with sugar and cream, pouring the hot liquid over it before handing it to Minerva. “You know how early she gets up, she was exhausted. I'm surprised you're still awake.”

“I've been staying up later because I wanted to spend time with you on your schedule. I have several more hours left before I turn into a pumpkin.” She sipped the tea.

“Cream and sugar?” Kathryn asked him, he shook his head. She filled the cup with plain tea and handed it to him.

“This would have only taken a few minutes.” He said, his finger softly stroking hers as he accepted the saucer. Minerva's averted eyes and slight smile told him that she caught the gesture.

“Well, aren't we all very Patrician this evening.” She filled a cup for herself and sat down next to him.

“Not just this evening dear.” Minerva said, that small smile still playing on her lips.

“Well, I promise to leave all the dirty pots in the scullery for Bridey.” Kathryn said, sipping the tea.