Page 76 of The Perks of Loving a Wallflower

“Yes,” Philippa answered honestly. “I wasn’t interested in the duke. I very much wanted to know who the person was who had almost spoken to me, and what I had done to chase her off. I thought of that moment for months afterward.”

“You hadn’t done anything. It was me. When I am anxious or nervous, my brain thinks up all the ways a thing can go wrong and plays them for me over and over. By the time I was in front of you, I was certain that if I so much as opened my mouth, you’d toss your lemonade in my face.”

“I do that, too,” Philippa admitted. “I stand up for others without issue, but in my own life, stasis is so much safer than change. Society has its rules, and I memorized them all. I even sent out inquiries about a Balcovian equivalent toDebrett’s Peerageso that I could learn those rules, as well.”

“Did you find one?” Tommy asked with interest.

Philippa shook her head. “Apparently, not all countries publish annual volumes listing their peers.”

“Pity. I would have liked to read about Bean.” Tommy sighed. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. I had therealBean, for a time. What would words change? All good things are temporary. Book or no book, he would still be gone.”

Philippa frowned. What would words change? She herself had discounted confessing her feelings, but she disliked hearing the sentiment from Tommy. Words were powerful.Thatwas why Philippa did not want to use them. They changed things. Sometimes forever.

Communication was the engine behind her reading circle. The power of building a network of community libraries. And it was also a conversation between two people. She was glad Tommy had finally approached her. This past month together comprised the best days of Philippa’s life.

She would never have guessed that Tommy had been afraid to take that first step. Now that she knew, Philippa liked her even more. Bravery wasn’t doing the things that came easy. Bravery meant pressing forward even when you were scared silly.

“And now, for the crowning touch.” From a box, Tommy pulled out what looked like the fluffy tail of a squirrel.

Philippa reared back, then laughed to realize what she was looking at was not an animal, but rather thick red-brown hair forming a pair of truly egregious side whiskers.

“Just wait,” Tommy said. “They’re even more impressive on.”

Philippa leaned farther away. “Please tell me those are not made from squirrel fur.”

“One hundred percent human hair,” Tommy assured her. “Probably.”

She applied some sort of gummy glue to one of the bushy whiskers and pressed it against her cheek.

As diverting as Tommy was bound to look when she finished, the sight of her wearing only one whisker was even funnier. Wild hair protruded between her fingers, from just below her temple almost to her jaw.

With her free hand, she turned over a small hourglass.

“I must hold them in place for several minutes for it to set properly,” she explained. She applied adhesive to the other whisker and carefully pressed it to her cheek, using both palms to keep the false hair in place.

“Is it strange to have me here watching you?” Philippa asked.

“I’m used to an audience,” Tommy answered. “The peculiar part is no longer having Chloe.”

“Did she help?”

“She can work wonders with curling tongs,” Tommy said. “But it’s more than that. Our cots were side by side in the orphanage. For as long as I’ve had memories, she’s never been more than an arm’s length away. And now she’s gone.”

“I’m sorry,” Philippa said softly. “I can only imagine how heart-wrenching that must be.”

“I thought I would be sad forever, but I don’t resent Faircliffe anymore. They make each other so happy. It is vexingly adorable. Ask her where she got that hideous bonnet.”

“The one in the caricatures?”

“The very one.” Tommy eyed the hourglass. Half of the sand now pooled at the bottom. “Chloe always reminds me that change can be for the better. We found each other. Then Bean. Then our siblings. Then I found you.”

“Those are wonderful changes,” Philippa said. “I especially like the last one.”

“Finding is fun,” Tommy agreed. “It’s losing that’s difficult. At first it was impossibly hard to be without Bean. Then just as impossible for me to try to replace him, however temporarily, as his imaginary heir.”

Philippa blinked. “I had not thought of that. It must have taken extra courage to approach me in public as the baron. And to hear his name, again and again.”

Tommy dusted her whiskers with hair powder. “I prefer being me, without any costume at all. That is, when I’m not being…Great-Uncle Wynchester.”