Rain misted against the tall windows, running down the glass in silent tears. She could see the trees bending with the wind, shaking free the last few stubborn leaves on the branches. Inside was bright, warm with the fire crackling in the fireplace, but the gray cloud-light from outside changed all the colors. Because of the rain and the light, Lola had changed her plans; there would be no dyeing today, hanging skeins of yarn and hanks of thread up to dry in the cold winter sun. Instead, her loom clattered and thunked in steady rhythm.
When she had left her little house for the safety of the Big House here in Maple Grove, she had not really expected to stay for so long. She had balked for several days before she finally reassembled her loom in one of the unused rooms on the first floor. At least the room had good light, with the tall windows and the glass doors that opened up to the gardens. Lola threw one of the shuttles between the threads on her loom and caught it with her other hand. She was not humming or singing quietly to herself, as she often did while weaving. Her back was to the door, dreamy brown eyes spending as much time looking out at the weeping skies as down to the growing length of fabric on the loom.
"Hello, Laura." The voice was familiar, if unexpected. Laura jumped at its hard bark, dropping the shuttle in her hand to the floor. The spool of gray silk thread fell from the shuttle carrier and rolled across the floor, unraveling as it went. When she looked, her father's face had tightened into an expression of scorn.
Lola bent her head down a bit, resting stained fingers against the denim of her jeans. Oliver did not approve of such casual clothing as she was wearing today, even though it was easier for her weaving. After a moment, though, she looked up with a smile. "Hello, Papa. I didn't know you were coming here today. I thought Great-Uncle said there was another board meeting this afternoon. About Caroline?" She added the question hopefully, searching for more news.
Oliver Jr's face darkened to thunderous, his eyebrows pulling down into a deep scowl that his mouth mirrored. Laura wilted under the look, fingers knotting together, but kept her eyes on her father's face. Eventually Oliver answered, curtly. "Yes. I'm on my way there now, to see if I can talk some sense into them. Grangers have never submitted to blackmail!"
At first, Laura had been hopeful. Then the meaning of Oliver's words sunk in, and her breath caught with dismay. "Oh " but Papa " just to get back Caroline. She's family; we can't just " just leave her!" The outburst, the minor contradiction of his whims, was still very unusual for Lola.
"Enough." Oliver cut her off with a chop of one square hand through the air. "You don't sit on the board, and you don't know enough to understand this anyway. You can't even keep your own little business above water without your stipend. I've half a mind to cut that off, too." His words were harsh and angry.
"Humphrey told me you've been sneaking down to the city alone. Are you witless as well as clumsy?" Oliver went on the attack. Anger was starting to flush his cheeks red.
Lola's hands tightened, turning her fingers white-knuckled and bloodless where they locked together. She looked down and shook her head. "No, Papa." Her voice was soft, barely audible in the room over the crackling of the fire. "I wasn't alone. Ollie was there with me, and Correy, Dom " even Aunt Elena."
Oliver Jr's voice went dangerously quiet. "You know you are not to mention that name in my presence, Laura."
She flinched almost involuntarily, but her jaw set into a stubborn line. Her voice was still soft, but it was clear. "Ollie is still my brother, Papa. And Caroline is still my cousin. You are wrong to vote against paying for her release." She had never, ever defied him so directly before. She locked her eyes on a splotch of indigo-blue stain at the base of her thumb.
When she managed to steal a glance up, Junior's face was almost purple with rage. His big hands were opening and closing into fists before he spoke again, his voice still eerily calm. "I'm late for the meeting. We will discuss this later." With that, Oliver Jr turned and stalked back out of the room, his footsteps echoing on the floor of the hallway.
Lola let out a breath caught in her throat, and went down to her hands and knees to retrieve the spool of silk from where it had rolled under a chair. Her fingers were freezing as she wound the thread back into place and then slotted the spool back into the shuttle. The motions were mechanical, made out of habit. Her mind was as frozen as her hands. When the loom clattered back to life, she never saw the thread move or her hands automatically trade from one shuttle to the next. Her brown eyes fixed on the gray world outside and the skies weeping tears onto the glass.
When she had left her little house for the safety of the Big House here in Maple Grove, she had not really expected to stay for so long. She had balked for several days before she finally reassembled her loom in one of the unused rooms on the first floor. At least the room had good light, with the tall windows and the glass doors that opened up to the gardens. Lola threw one of the shuttles between the threads on her loom and caught it with her other hand. She was not humming or singing quietly to herself, as she often did while weaving. Her back was to the door, dreamy brown eyes spending as much time looking out at the weeping skies as down to the growing length of fabric on the loom.
"Hello, Laura." The voice was familiar, if unexpected. Laura jumped at its hard bark, dropping the shuttle in her hand to the floor. The spool of gray silk thread fell from the shuttle carrier and rolled across the floor, unraveling as it went. When she looked, her father's face had tightened into an expression of scorn.
Lola bent her head down a bit, resting stained fingers against the denim of her jeans. Oliver did not approve of such casual clothing as she was wearing today, even though it was easier for her weaving. After a moment, though, she looked up with a smile. "Hello, Papa. I didn't know you were coming here today. I thought Great-Uncle said there was another board meeting this afternoon. About Caroline?" She added the question hopefully, searching for more news.
Oliver Jr's face darkened to thunderous, his eyebrows pulling down into a deep scowl that his mouth mirrored. Laura wilted under the look, fingers knotting together, but kept her eyes on her father's face. Eventually Oliver answered, curtly. "Yes. I'm on my way there now, to see if I can talk some sense into them. Grangers have never submitted to blackmail!"
At first, Laura had been hopeful. Then the meaning of Oliver's words sunk in, and her breath caught with dismay. "Oh " but Papa " just to get back Caroline. She's family; we can't just " just leave her!" The outburst, the minor contradiction of his whims, was still very unusual for Lola.
"Enough." Oliver cut her off with a chop of one square hand through the air. "You don't sit on the board, and you don't know enough to understand this anyway. You can't even keep your own little business above water without your stipend. I've half a mind to cut that off, too." His words were harsh and angry.
"Humphrey told me you've been sneaking down to the city alone. Are you witless as well as clumsy?" Oliver went on the attack. Anger was starting to flush his cheeks red.
Lola's hands tightened, turning her fingers white-knuckled and bloodless where they locked together. She looked down and shook her head. "No, Papa." Her voice was soft, barely audible in the room over the crackling of the fire. "I wasn't alone. Ollie was there with me, and Correy, Dom " even Aunt Elena."
Oliver Jr's voice went dangerously quiet. "You know you are not to mention that name in my presence, Laura."
She flinched almost involuntarily, but her jaw set into a stubborn line. Her voice was still soft, but it was clear. "Ollie is still my brother, Papa. And Caroline is still my cousin. You are wrong to vote against paying for her release." She had never, ever defied him so directly before. She locked her eyes on a splotch of indigo-blue stain at the base of her thumb.
When she managed to steal a glance up, Junior's face was almost purple with rage. His big hands were opening and closing into fists before he spoke again, his voice still eerily calm. "I'm late for the meeting. We will discuss this later." With that, Oliver Jr turned and stalked back out of the room, his footsteps echoing on the floor of the hallway.
Lola let out a breath caught in her throat, and went down to her hands and knees to retrieve the spool of silk from where it had rolled under a chair. Her fingers were freezing as she wound the thread back into place and then slotted the spool back into the shuttle. The motions were mechanical, made out of habit. Her mind was as frozen as her hands. When the loom clattered back to life, she never saw the thread move or her hands automatically trade from one shuttle to the next. Her brown eyes fixed on the gray world outside and the skies weeping tears onto the glass.