Wednesday
At exactly 5:00 PM, Aura’s house and garden were perfectly prepared for the "great televised event." The garden in particular, where the event was to take place, had been transformed into a small corner of paradise. The touch of Mrs. Gale—the neighborhood’s own Goddess Durga—was visible everywhere: from the elegant garden tables covered in fine, off-white washed linen, to the warm light emanating from rustic lanterns. The technical crew had blended into the landscape, becoming practically invisible, while the background music—a discreet guitar—recalled the hostess's love for fado.
In a corner, under the blooming branches of a purple lilac bush, on a matching velvet cushion, Mistral and Sirocco—their fur freshly brushed, wearing starched white silk bow ties—were commentating alongside the omnipresent but eternally camouflaged Aeolus. He was just two steps away, tucked inside the wheelbarrow filled with trailing white geraniums, a true delight for the onlookers.
"Pss, what do you say now, Mistral? Mother has outdone herself! And look at the 'Topknot'—no more topknot, and you can’t even see her scraped knees anymore!"
"E-everyone can see she's beautiful, Fleur! I’m proud she’s my friend!" Sirocco answered immediately instead of Mistral, gazing adoringly at the girl. She sat on a chair very close to them, wearing a purple suit that seemed to match the lilac bush perfectly. Her scraped knees were hidden by her flared trousers, and her curly hair was left loose down her back.
"Tush... your friend! Honestly," Mistral remarked with an air of blasé aristocracy.
"What is that girl—that young lady—serving? Do grown-ups eat those tiny little things? It wouldn’t be enough for me..."
"Those? Those are called amuse-bouches, mon petit Sirocco. They are for the refined, not for gluttons without manners," Mistral muttered, lifting a paw to check the perfection of his bow tie.
"Amuse-what?!" Sirocco wondered, blinking rapidly. "Sounds so 'sophisticated,' just the way you like it, Mistral!"
Mistral let out a long sigh, looking over the garden with a weary elegance:
"Quelle barbarie... It is the art of tasting, something you—with your passion for bowls filled to the brim—could never understand. They are tiny explosions of flavor meant to 'amuse' your senses before the great feast. Évidemment, to you they are just crumbs, but for the aura of this event, they are essential. Chic, n'est-ce pas?"
Aeolus, hidden deep among the white geraniums, moved discreetly, causing a few petals to tremble over the wheelbarrow.
"I think these big people complicate things too much," Aeolus squeaked without poking his nose out of the "wall" of flowers. "A good piece of cheese crust is always safer than an... amuse-bouche. And my coffee bean, of course."
Mistral pretended not to hear Aeolus’s intervention and turned toward Fleur, who looked impeccable in her purple suit.
"Pas mal," he whispered only to himself,Pas mal," he whispered only to himself, admiring how the girl’s flared trousers matched their velvet cushion. "This 'Topknot' is getting under my skin... but I won't give in!"
Then he looked elsewhere, catching sight of Remi Storm in an impeccable white outfit—trousers and jacket—on impressive stiletto heels that didn’t seem to hinder her in any way. Her long black hair was loose, but much tamer than at their last meeting in the park.
"Lady 'Women Can't Be Tamed,' what do you say to that, Aeolus? Just look at how poor Anemo’s eyes are melting for her!"
"Can you blame him, Mistral? Even Arbalest is staring at her, and the professor... and me."
"Professor Simoon would want her as a daughter-in-law, I bet, and Mrs. Gale too," Mistral admitted, somewhat irritated. "Imagine her becoming our mistress! Anemo would forget all about us; we’d die of hunger, parol! No siesta can be done on an empty stomach! We’d have to go into exile, to emigrate: either to the 'Topknot,' who would keep us on ice cream cones, or to Noel, to fraternize with his pigeons and that restless puppy..."
"E-everyone says she's 'Snow White'... she said I’m a sweetheart..."
"As usual, you're talking nonsense, little one!"
"Shush! Be quiet!" Aeolus whispered, tucking himself even deeper under a double-flowered white geranium. "The spotlights are coming on! The show is starting, and I have a feeling Anemo just forgot how to breathe."
Aura Gale stepped in front of the guests and, with a warm but commanding voice, began the first speech of the evening:
"Good evening! I am Aura Gale, your host for tonight, and I want to tell you that I am honored to celebrate together, at our book club, the woman who wrote 'Women Can't Be Tamed.' She is one of us, and we love her. Ladies and gentlemen, Remi Storm!"
"Yeah, whatever, Snow White... as if we don't know better!"
"Shhh, Mistral! I want to hear!"
"You too, Aeolus? You’re a traitor just like this silly little one!"
"I’m... I’m not silly, I’m learning more and more every day!"
The crowd began to applaud. Fleur stood upand her admiring gaze slid for a few seconds toward the furry corner.
"There, she finished her speech and I heard nothing. I didn't think you were such a misogynist, Mistral!"
"Me, a misogynist? You don't know what you're talking about, mon cher!"
"A-arbalest is next! Let’s pay attention!"
"The rock-man is next... Where on earth did he get that checkered jacket? Didn't he see it fits him like a wardrobe? Quelle horreur!"
"Be quiet, Mistral!"
Archibald Peter Stone cleared his throat first; you wouldn't have thought that mountain of a man could have nerves...
"Distinguished guests!..."
"Pss! Look at Daisy Queen! She left poor Lady Bell at home... so she wouldn't get dirty. Such airs! Look at her with that fan; another second and she’ll blow Noel right over Gill."
"Quiet, Mistral!"
"And that yellow silk dress... seriously? She’s wearing a ton of jewelry as if she weren’t... well, I admit I’m imposing too, but..."
"Shut up, he's talking about Anemo!"
"...a true honor to announce that I have secured him a contract for an animated series... under the Magic Golden Paws brand!"
Thunderous applause came from the audience, but inside the garden gnome’s wheelbarrow, someone was very upset with Mistral.
"You do this every single time!" Aeolus squeaked, as the applause drowned out the rest of his reproaches.
Mistral didn’t answer. He narrowed his eyes, fixing them on Anemo, who was taking his first step toward the microphone under the dazzling spotlights.
"Attention," the cat whispered, raising an eyebrow. "Now let’s see if Magic Golden Paws has a voice too, not just golden claws... Bonne chance, Anemo, you’re going to need it!"
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