Conall’s mother was not what Gizelle had imagined, but she seemed very nice. Her smiles were careful things of beauty, and she spoke very sweetly.
Gizelle showed her more of the resort, and even went with her to the spa to have Laura and Lydia paint their nails while Aideen told her stories of Conall as a little boy, something that was very hard for Gizelle to picture.
Only once did Gizelle shift and run, when Graham upended a wheelbarrow of gr
avel unexpectedly on the other side of a hedge.
She returned at once, sheepishly, to collect the pieces of her sundress. “I’m sorry,” she said. “Travis can put it back together for me. I like to run,” she tried to explain. “When I’m frightened, I just don’t think about it.”
Conall had started to defend her to his mother, but Aideen interrupted him. “That’s very sensible, dear,” she said kindly. “A perfectly normal reaction.”
Her understanding had puzzled Gizelle, because she knew that whatever else she was, she wasn’t normal. But Conall had smiled with such a look of relief that Gizelle didn’t want to press the matter.
Instead, she asked, “Do you know what pronking is?”
Aideen looked horrified. “Possibly? I don’t know what they call things these days.”
Because her sundress was already in pieces, Gizelle shifted and demonstrated, springing around the lawn with all four legs perfectly straight and her back arched.
She returned to them, shifting back to two legs between one leap and another and throwing herself into Conall’s arms with ringing laughter. He caught her easily, spun her around, and then said merrily, “Let’s go get you another dress before you scandalize my mother further.”
He carried her to the cottage, Aideen trailing behind them with a hand over her eyes. Perhaps it was too sunny for her.
After she had slipped into her dress, Conall and Aideen decided to visit the pool for an afternoon dip.
Gizelle had other ideas, and knew that Aideen would be shocked because she had no bathing suit anyway, so she slipped away to The Den. They still called it the bachelors’ house sometimes, even though Bastian and Travis had mates living there now. It was Travis’ mate that she was there to find. This time, she remembered to knock on the bedroom door.
“Who is it?” Jenny called after a moment and some laughter that wasn’t all hers.
“Gizelle,” she answered, wondering if that was an invitation, or if she should wait for something more definitive.
“Just a minute,” Jenny said promptly, answering that question.
After a few moments, she slipped out of the door and caught Gizelle turning one of the paintings in the hallway upside down. “I like it better this way,” Gizelle said simply.
“Other than rearranging the decor, what’s up?” Jenny asked.
“I want you to teach me to shift with my clothes on,” Gizelle said.
Jenny blinked at her. “I don’t know if I can,” she admitted. “It’s just something I... do. I don’t really know how I do it.”
Disappointment swept over Gizelle. “Oh,” she said sadly. “I guess I know how that feels.”
Jenny’s expression turned to pity. “I’m sorry,” she said. Then, curiously, “Why do you want to all of a sudden?”
Gizelle twisted her hands in the skirt of her dress. “I want Conall’s mother to like me,” she said shyly. “And she’d like me more if I wore clothes all the time.”
Jenny smiled like the sun. “Oh, sweetie. She seems to like you just fine. I wouldn’t worry a thing about that.”
Gizelle smiled back hopefully. Jenny was a lawyer, and she had a sister. She must know about things like that.
Chapter 50
Gizelle braved dinner with them at the restaurant again that night.
Conall was beginning to genuinely relax; they had been seated without incident, and though Gizelle had jumped nearly out of her seat at a crash from the bar below, she settled at once, and quizzed Aideen and Conall about bridges, puzzled by the idea that bodies of water could be smaller than an ocean but larger than a thin creek that she could leap over.
As they explained lakes and rivers and spits, mocking things up with cutlery and napkins, Gizelle suddenly went very tense.