Free Red's Untold Tale by Wendy Toliver Page A

it?”
    Digging my fingernails into the tapestry of the chair I sat in, I said, “Florence smashed it.”
    â€œGoodness me.” Violet chuckled. “That’s the truth, but of course it was a most unfortunate accident. She tripped and fell onto it. She felt horrible about it. It’s
all the poor, clumsy girl talked about all night long: how terrible she felt.”
    â€œAnd you played a part in it, as well, Violet,” I reminded her.
    She chuckled again. “I sure did, Mother. I tried to put the cake back together using my own two hands.”
    â€œThat’s my precious little lamb.” Mother and daughter shared a sickeningly sweet moment that made me shudder. Finally, Mrs. Roberts excused herself to go check on the milk.
    Violet crossed the room and opened the window, probably to rid the room of the stench of dishonesty. I was thankful for the fresh air, but I wished Mrs. Roberts would hurry. I couldn’t
stand being in that house or anywhere near Violet. With each passing second, I wished I had never come. If only there had been another way to get the milk Granny needed.
    â€œSo, I’m sure you’re eager to hear what all happened at Peter’s party after you left,” Violet said.
    â€œAll right,” I agreed, against my best instincts. I couldn’t leave without what I came for, and because of that, I couldn’t risk acting cross—especially since we
hadn’t negotiated a price, and I might not have had enough in my pouch.
    Violet leaned on the curio, her shiny black boots reflecting rays of sunlight. “Gregory pulled out his fiddle, and before you knew it, everyone was dancing round the bonfire. It was
delightful.”
    That did sound nice, I had to admit. “Oh?”
    â€œI took a spin with Peter—it was his birthday, after all—and what better gift than a dance with me?”
    â€œOh.” My stomach roiled. I couldn’t bear to remain sitting, so I walked over to the window, hoping to see Mrs. Roberts on her way back from the barn with the milk. But sadly,
the only creature in the path was a starling, pecking at an insect or worm in the dirt.
    Violet continued, “You wouldn’t believe it if you didn’t see it, but Peter can dance. The other girls saw it, too, and one by one they asked him to dance with them. One by one,
he turned them away. He danced with me and only me. I guess I must have been caught up in the excitement of it all—the fire, the music, the dancing bodies all around me, the big, silver
moon—and when Peter asked me to save him the first dance at the Forget-Me-Not ball…” The song her sister was playing on the piano came to an abrupt end. As the muffled sound of
rustling papers came from the music hall, Violet pressed her lips together and widened her eyes. “…I said yes!”
    My jaw dropped. It was too late to try to disguise my shock. “I didn’t realize he fancied you.” I held my hand up to my mouth, silently chastising myself for letting that slip
out, and before they’d given me a price for the milk. “What I meant to say is I’m quite sure he’s never mentioned it, not even once.”
    â€œWho knows? Perhaps he’s only recently fallen under my spell.” She paused a moment and then laughed as if a private memory had tickled her mind. “That tends to happen
when they kiss me.”
    My knees went to mush, like they’d forgotten how to hold my weight. I reminded myself that Peter and I were friends, nothing more—but I hated the very thought of him kissing somebody
else. Especially if that somebody was Violet Roberts.
    â€œYou’re lying,” I choked out. “You’re nothing but a liar.”
    â€œAm I?” Her rosy lips curved up. “My dear Red, if you only knew me better, you’d realize I never lie. Lying is unbecoming. Still, if you don’t believe me, perhaps
you should