ME, CINDERELLA?(41)
Surprised by the cold and distant tone his words had taken, I withdrew as well. No more touches, no more meaningful looks. I let myself look over at him as we walked toward the house, but his gaze was fixed firmly to the snowy path beneath his feet.
Very well. I was here to do math, not to flirt. Eliot had made that perfectly clear.
“She’s your guest!”
“She’s a student, Otto. The only reason I’m letting her stay—”
“Is because your landlady hasn’t repaired the heaters? I’m sure that’s why you let the young girl sleep with you.” The voice boomed through the phone, and Eliot glanced around guiltily, as though Brynn might hear.
“We aren’t sleeping together,” Eliot said.
“Pity! Marta tells me she’s a beauty with a good head on her shoulders, if a bit rubenesque.”
Eliot seethed unexpectedly at Otto’s description.
“You haven’t any idea what you’re talking about.”
“I know you could do worse. Marta adores her, have I told you that?”
“It’s out of the question.” But now that his brother had brought up the idea, Eliot shifted uncomfortably where he stood. Hadn’t he fallen for Brynn from the start? But she had come to work as a student, and he couldn’t in good conscience put her in such an awkwardly difficult spot. Suppose she didn’t care for him? Suppose she did, and then they argued and broke apart. Apart from being irresponsible, he felt frightened at the thought of losing her.
“Eliot, you’re incorrigible.”
“Actually, I was wondering if Marta would take her around tomorrow morning. She wants to see a few things, the Fiumei cemetery, and I’m rather busy with work.” Eliot pressed his lips together. His work had stalled again; he simply didn’t want to go back to that graveyard. Not so soon. Soon? It had been ten years, but it felt too early to go back. He closed his eyes and saw the white rose petals falling.
“The Fiumei cemetery? What on earth for? Did you tell her about Clare?”
“No, nothing like that. She has family there. Ancestors, I’d suppose. Her grandmother is from Hungary.”
“I’ll ask, but I think tomorrow Marta has plans.”
“Whenever would be good for her, then. I doubt she’s in a hurry.”
“The girl? You have her there now, don’t you?”
“She’s here. Upstairs, studying.” Eliot had left her with a textbook and a problem set in his study.
“Got to get her downstairs, to the baths with you!” Otto chuckled heartily. “But Eliot, I do need to ask you a favor.”
“What?”
“Take my tickets to the restaurant opening.”
“I told you, it would be inappropriate to take her as a date.”
“Then take her as a student, nobody will care. It’s just a tiny little soiree.”
Eliot rolled his eyes. Otto’s soirees never turned out to be tiny.
“Please, brother. I can’t make it, and it would be a social snub if I missed it completely.”
“You will still be missing it completely!”
“Not at all, I’m sending another Herceg in my place. It’s been a while since you’ve shown yourself in public in Budapest; I’m sure the restaurant owners will be more than thrilled to have you in my place.”
“You’re not making me want to go with that talk. And with the way I left Hungary…”
“Eliot, don’t be stubborn! It’s just dinner. You don’t have to socialize with anyone. Please.”
Eliot thought of the fridge, empty but for a loaf of bread and a gallon of milk. He would have to go out to get dinner anyway. And perhaps Brynn would like to go to a fancy restaurant opening…
“Yes. You’ve decided to say yes. I can tell. Thank you, brother.”
Eliot sighed. “Fine. But I’m not sticking around for cocktails or any nonsense afterwards.”
“You can escape back to your hermitage after the dinner. Yes, fine.”
“Otto?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you for all this. For your support. And Marta’s.”
“Anything we can do, brother, anything at all. You deserve it. Have a wonderful dinner tonight with your lovely lady.”
Otto hung up before Eliot could protest.
I thought for most of my life that mathematics could describe anything. The population growth of deer, the deep spirals of the calla lilies blooming in the spring, the reverberations of an echo down an empty tunnel. The path of an arrow as it fell headlong toward its target. Even love, the chemical reactions and electrical signals in our brains that made us fall into each other’s arms headlong in bliss.