Questionable Intentions

Time to write!

The man was handsome, that much was not to be disputed. He was also intelligent, funny enough, polite, and altogether quite charming. The question remained, however... was he too charming?

He had refused to tell us his name since arriving three nights ago, claiming only that "such things can hardly matter now" and smiling in a way which utterly bewitched Belonda and left Marzi swooning.

"I don't like it." Shyla said to me, hands working through the pile of shirts on the table in front of her, folding first the bottom to the collar, then the sleeves, then in half.

"Don't like what?" I asked, not because I really didn't know, but because I didn't know what else to say.

"The stranger." Shyla stated the obvious. "What does he want here? More importantly, why won't he tell us who he is?"

"Because," I answered calmly, folding a pair of lemon-grass colored trousers, a strange color to be sure, especially in these parts. "apparently 'such things can hardly matter now.'"

Shyla sniffed in disapproval. "I don't trust him. Anyone who shows up here has an agenda, and while he may claim to be nothing but an innocent traveler, I don't buy it for a second."

I shrugged. "It's true, his lack of suspicious behavior does mark him as highly suspicious in and of itself,"

Before my older sister could respond, the twins, four years my junior, came rushing in.

Belonda's blue eyes were sparkling and Marzi could hardly keep herself from rocketing into the rafters as she jumped about giddily.

"He spoke to us!" Belonda said. "Of his own accord he spoke to us! Without us even asking him a question first!"

"Did he now?" Shyla responded, in a voice which made clear she shared in none of our younger sisters' excitement. "And just what did he say?"

"He said, 'Good day' and asked us about the cotillion tomorrow night," Marzi said.

"The cotillion?" I asked. "Ferrenbrook's cotillion?"

"The very same," Belonda said.

"Now why would someone from out of town care about old Ferrenbrook's cotillion?" I mused.

"I'll tell you why," Shyla said gruffly, finishing the last of the shirts and dropping the pile into a hamper to be taken upstairs. "Because that someone has questionable intentions towards the innocent girls who will be in attendance."