Page 15 of Don’t Look Down

The children’s art fair fundraiser is in full swing. Crafts for all ages are spread around the large outdoor patio. About half of it is shaded, which is where most of the adults have congregated. I’ve spent the majority of the morning mingling with the potential donors Juliette introduced me to.

Beau, on the other hand, has been making his rounds at each of the craft tables, spending the entirety of his day ignoring the adults and playing with the kids.

Most of the conversations have been quite dull, and I’ve had to fight each and every yawn that threatens to break out. The past few nights have been restless. I tossed and turned, tried sleeping on my sofa, I even went for a jog at dusk to see if that would tire me out. I hardly made it a kilometer.

But physically, it did the job. Mentally, my head has been swimming since Lock’s phone call.

He hasn’t reached back out since, and I’m doing my best to keep a level head about it. He’s busy, and he already did what he could to contact me. I shouldn’t expect anything more.

But yet, every time my phone buzzes, I find a rising hope brewing that it’s him.

It never is.

And now, I have a reminder of him today in the face of his brother. Lock and Beau don’t have many similar features, but you can tell they’re related in the bone structure of their faces. But where Lock is all darker hair and brown eyes, Beau is the opposite.

That blond head of hair is currently swarmed by a group of children so large I can barely tell what craft section they’re working in.

A strong breeze blows through, ruffling some of the canvas paintings, and volunteers rush to collect them to take them inside to safety. The chill in the air brings goosebumps to my arms so I excuse myself from the group conversation I wasn’t really even part of with a couple of the mothers and step out into the sunshine on the opposite end of the patio.

A few little girls notice my movement and rush over. “Miss Briar! Come see what we made!”

I smile and follow them, a reminder of why we’re here today. All money raised will go toward art supplies for every primary school in Ashrya.

“We’re making stepping stones! Do you like mine?” The little girl points to her art piece. Little pink gems dot each of the toenails, like painted nails, and she’s stenciled her name into the wet cement.

“I love what you did with your toenails,” I gush, crouching down to take a closer look.

She shoves her cement-coated foot in my direction. “They match my real ones.”

“They do! That’s so creative.”

Another little girl comes beside me. “Do you like mine? I made a flower with the tiles.” I look at her design, full of red and purple mosaic flowers surrounding her footprint.

“It’s beautiful! Purple flowers are my favorite.”

“Really?”

“Yes, I love lilacs. My grandparents used to have bushes of them right outside their kitchen window so in the summer, the smell breezed inside.”

She points to one of the flowers. “Is that a lilac?”

I shake my head. “They have smaller petals than that, but those are just as pretty.”

“Why didn’t you make one?” she asks, peering at me with big brown eyes. “Did you need help? Miss Juliette was pouring the heavy stuff out for all of us.”

I stand, brushing my hands down my skirt. “I didn’t. But that’s okay.”

“Why not?” The first little girl frowns, pigtails swaying. “We can help you. I can show you how to make your toes pretty, too.”

“Yeah, why not?” This voice startles me. My hand flies to my chest as Beau steps beside me, his musky cologne overpowering the scent of wet cement.

I blink at him, before looking back to the children. “This activity is for you. I don’t want to take any of the supplies away.”

“We have plenty!” one says, while the other points a few feet away. “But he did one!”

In a square mold, decorated with a mess of green and blue mosaic tiles, sits an adult-sized footprint. I look down at Beau’s feet to find them bare and his pants rolled up to his ankles.

A prince stands next to me, barefoot and caked with cement, with the biggest smile on his face. “I’d never made one before. Do you think they’ll put it in the gardens of Caulfield Palace?”