Free Fiona by Meredith Moore Page A

and I know my eyes are round in horror.
    Mabel lifts another piece of shortbread from the plate of them and takes a bite. “I don’t taste anything strange,” she says, narrowing her eyes at me, as if I’m just causing problems for the sake of it.
    I swallow the last crumb of shortbread and sit down. Maybe my taste buds are off this morning, out of whack from lack ofsleep or something. “Never mind,” I murmur, and everyone goes back to their breakfast.
    I stare down at the remainder of the shortbread. For that brief moment, I felt like I was little again, back in Austin with my mother, chatting and laughing over cookies. Have I just been missing her so much that my brain tricked me into thinking it was that same old taste? Still, I don’t dare take another bite.
    I opt for some fruit and keep my eyes on my plate for the rest of the meal, but I can barely taste a thing. Every time I open my mouth, it fills with the thick tension in the room, coating my tongue and nearly making me gag. He’s looking at me. I can feel it.
    I get up to leave as soon as Poppy is done. “Fee, can you wait a second?” Charlie asks before I can scurry out of the room.
    Poppy waltzes away, and I have to face him.
    He waits to speak until I finally meet his gaze. “I owe you an apology,” he says. “I was guttered last night, and I acted inappropriately.”
    I breathe out, relieved. So I won’t be fired, then. “I take it ‘guttered’ means really drunk?”
    He almost smiles. “Yes.”
    â€œI thought you weren’t a big partier anymore.” I nearly bite my tongue. What’s the matter with me?
    â€œYou’ve been asking about me?” he says, his brow raised in genuine surprise.
    I shrug, trying to act unconcerned. “I just wanted to know what kind of man I was working for.”
    He nods with a sigh. “It was a . . . a hard day yesterday, and I didn’t handle it the way I should have. I’m sorry you had to see me like that.” He speaks formally, as if he’s making a big effort to act the way he thinks he should. The way a grown-up would.
    â€œI understand,” I say.
    â€œDo you? Because you’ve got this look—” he starts, but cuts himself off.
    I blink. “What look?”
    â€œNothing,” he says quickly. But he stares at me, as if he can see every single emotion racing across my features. As if he can see through my thin facade of normality.
    â€œI should go make sure Poppy’s ready for school,” I say, breaking my gaze from his and skirting around him.
    â€¢Â â€¢Â â€¢
    Alice finds me the next day roaming around the castle, strolling along the portrait gallery, trying not to linger too long in front of the gloomy stare of the Grey Lady. “Bored yet?” she asks, resting her vacuum against a doorframe.
    â€œHow’d you guess?” I say, my lips quirking up slightly.
    â€œWandering the halls is never a good sign.”
    â€œIt’s too stormy to wander outside,” I say. It’s been raining in blinding sheets all morning, dark clouds swirling above, a cold and gloomy October day that makes the castle feel small and suffocating. I’ve had a prickle on the back of my neck for hours, the sensation I get when I feel like I’m being watched. “It just feels so . . . isolated here.”
    â€œThat’s because it is. We’re miles from any other house, any other family. It’s our own little world out here.” She lifts the heavy vacuum again. “Come on, I have to clean the family rooms.”
    I follow her up the stairs to the fifth floor. “Is that why you dated Gareth? Because he’s the only guy nearby?” I ask with a lilt in my voice. I can’t help my curiosity anymore.
    She half smiles, half grimaces. “You heard about that, huh?”
    I shrug, trying not to show how interested I