Brahm steps up behind me. He carefully places the crumpled apron on the workbench and then sets his hands on my shoulders. “I have something to show you.”
“Something?” I ask, dabbing away the lingering moister with my knuckle.
“A surprise.”
I look over my shoulder, intrigued by his tone. “Is it safe for you to be here?”
“My mother left with my sister and brother this morning,” he says. “And I believe I promised you we’d spend the day together. Did you forget?”
I shake my head.
“Good.” He laces his fingers through mine and then leads me out of the kitchen.
“Where are we going?” I ask, my eyes focusing on our clasped hands. The connection chases away the last of my sadness.
Brahm is here, just as he promised.
We pause outside the sitting room, and he turns to me. The corners of his eyes crinkle as he smiles. “Cover your eyes.”
“What?” I ask with a laugh, startled by this light side of him.
He steps close and lowers his voice. “It’s a surprise.”
Butterflies flutter in my stomach, and I slowly close my eyes, holding a hand over them to prove I cannot see. Brahm guides me inside the room, holding onto my shoulders as he stands behind me.
“Okay,” he says near my ear, the words tickling my skin. “Open.”
Slowly, I flutter my eyes, unsure what to expect.
It’s a tree, but it’s not lit with candles. Hundreds of shifting, ethereal fairy lights twinkle from the boughs. Instead of glass balls, short red roses in tiny glass jars hang from the limbs. Their velvet petals sparkle as if dusted with powdered mica.
“It’s…beautiful,” I breathe, though the word feels insufficient. I’ve never seen anything like this in my life.
“Do you like it?” Brahm asks, unsure.
I turn to face him, laughing. “Of course I like it. It’s amazing.”
“I didn’t have time to shop for…whatever the bobbles you put on these things are called.”
“It’s perfect,” I insist.
“I’ve brought gifts, too,” he says softly. “Regina bought you a cloak, and she packed the rest of your things. I have a few packages for you as well.”
“You’ve done enough for me already.” I look at the tree, overwhelmed by the sweet gesture. “And I have nothing for you.”
Brahm shrugs, nodding toward the two packages by the side table near the tree. “One is a selfish gift, more for me than you anyway.”
My curiosity piqued, I cross the room and pick up the larger of the two packages. “May I?”
“Not yet. Open the other first.”
I set the package down and turn toward the small tubular case that’s bound in brown leather. I expect to find paintbrushes, or something of the like, but the gift holds a rolled piece of parchment.
It’s yellowed with age, and the paper is thick. My heart beats too quickly as I slide the paper out. “Brahm.”
“The house is now in your name,” he says, standing with his hands behind his back. “It belongs to you.”
A lump forms in my throat. “But all that money you paid the bank…”