✶✶✶
✦ ✦ ✦
Sophie gazed lovingly at the now-pristine, fluffy white faces in front of her. Round and smooth—like tiny little, delicious bread rolls.
By the time they’d returned to the orphanage, Cecili and Mairi had already slipped into the world of dreams, curled up together like kittens.
She’d hoped to cast the spell without waking them, but her magic—had it always shone that brightly? Fortunately, the sisters were so deeply exhausted that not even that could stir them. When the light finally faded, the scars were gone.
They’ll be so surprised in the morning, Sophie thought, and she couldn’t help but smile, again, and again, and again.
Noticing the door was slightly ajar, with a sliver of light spilling in from the hallway, she quietly stepped back from their bedside and tiptoed out into the hall.
✦ ✦ ✦
✶✶✶
IN the matron’s office:
“Ms. Claire has caught me up on everything,” the matron said, pinching the bridge of her nose. Then her eyes flew open, blazing with fury. “The gall of that woman… If she thinks she can come back now and reclaim them—well, I’d love to see her try!”
“Will you tell Ms. Mairi and Ms. Cecili what transpired today?” Sophie asked.
“Absolutely not!” the matron snapped, eyes widening even further. “Tell them and get their hopes up? For what? For the dream that a single mother can rebuild her entire life from nothing in a year? Hogwash. Absolute hogwash! There’s no guarantee of it. There’s no guarantee of anything!”
“But if Ms. Quilt were to come back with everything in order?”
The matron fell silent for a beat, then let out a slow, simmering breath. “It would infuriate me beyond words. But if she’s truly their mother, we’d have no choice but to hand them over. That said, we’ll proceed with the arrangements for foster care and apprenticeships as planned. Fortunately, both children are healthy and as charming as they are beautiful. I’m sure they’ll receive excellent offers.”
She sat a little straighter, voice hardening.
“Their mother,” she whispered through clenched teeth. “In fact, I’d love to see her return. I’ll receive her personally. I’ll make sure she understands exactly why they call me ‘Dogged Old Margaret.’”
She snorted, defiant.
Sophie smiled to herself. She was glad she’d warned Quilt of the matron’s…formidableness.
She was a wall that stood between the helpless and the world’s cruelty. A wall that sheltered those without a roof and offered knowledge and means to survive to those with nothing.
A living wall, warm with life. Not unlike the vine-woven fence that circled the orphanage itself.
“While Ms. Quilt deeply regrets her decision to let go of her children,” Sophie said, “I think she made the right choice. This orphanage—this place you’ve built—it was the perfect place for them.”
“Of course it is,” the matron replied, not missing a beat. There was a pause, and she looked up. “By the way, Ms. Sophie, does the Olzon household happen to need any new maids?”
Sophie blinked, surprised, then let a smile spread across her face. “Dogged Old Margaret, indeed,” she whispered.
Good luck, Ms. Quilt.
Sophie sent up that quiet prayer for the woman who, no doubt, was feverishly scrubbing herself clean with freezing cold water at that very moment.
You’re going to need it.
✦ ✦ ✦
✶✶✶
IT was pouring rain that day. With no clients booked, Sophie was spending the afternoon reading in the salon, passing the time until dinner, when out of the blue, Martha called for her.
“Kurt Ozhorn here to see you, milady. Seems he ran all the way here in the rain, and he’s requested to see you in the entryway.”
Sophie immediately put down her book.
“My,” she said as the entryway came into view—and with it, a completely soaked, head-to-toe drenched man with black hair plastered to his face. “I didn’t take you for a man who hated umbrellas, Mr. Ozhorn. You have a wild side to you. As unpredictable as always.”
“No, I simply forgot, Ms. Sophie.”
“Ah,” Sophie replied, looking away awkwardly.
“You look well, Ms. Sophie,” Kurt said.
“I am, thank you for asking,” Sophie replied.
Then…nothing. Kurt lapsed into silence, looking her over from head to toe.
“Very good,” he eventually said. “Sorry for making a mess of your entryway. I shall be taking my leave now. Good day.” He turned to go.
Sophie blinked in confusion. “I’m sorry—can I not ask what that was all about?”
He paused and turned back. He almost hesitated before he spoke. “A body was found on the banks of the river today. The water level had swelled with the rain, revealing it.”
Sophie blinked, the weight of the news sinking in all at once.
“They said it was a young girl who took her own life after giving up the fight with a lifelong illness. So, I’m glad to see you well.”
Not a flicker of emotion crossed Kurt’s face. Just the rain—matting his hair, dripping from his bangs—giving him the look of a drenched, pitiable dog. That’s all it was, Sophie told herself. But even so, her hands reflexively curled into fists.
“You came here right after work? As soon as you were able?” she asked.
“Yes,” he replied.
“Forgetting your umbrella in the process?”
“Yes.”
“Because you thought it might’ve been me…”
“I considered the possibility. After all, I had just greatly disappointed you the other day.”
“…I wasn’t disappointed. Besides, I’m resilient, aren’t I? Of course I’d be fine.”
“You are resilient, yes, but you are also delicate. At any rate. It wasn’t you. That’s all that matters.” He turned to go again.
“You can borrow an umbrella. And we’ll get you a towel, too,” Sophie called after him.
“No need,” he replied, without looking back. “It wouldn’t help. I’m already soaked to the bone. Now then. Good day.”
With that, he vanished into the rain.
Sophie stood there for a while, listening to his footsteps fade into the downpour, her hands wringing restlessly.