Of the two Fitzpatrick's, Karen and Clara Sheik, it was Claire, despite Karen's significant size and strength advantage, who intimidated Celeste the most. This had nothing to do with any fault of Claire's. In what few interactions the three of them had had so far, she and Celeste got on quite well. In another life, they might have been close friends. Celeste hoped they still would be . . . just with a whole lot more depth to their relationship than 'mere' friendship. What made Claire seem the more intimidating of the two dominant women wasn't anything she'd done or said. Rather, it was a lack of something on Celeste's part. Growing up, she never had a strong, feminine role model. She never had someone to look up to, to emulate, to model herself after. What female authority figures Celeste did have in her life treated her with cool ambivalence. Her mother preferred Celeste's brother. The St. James household was very<em>Freudian</em>like that. She had a few aunts, too, but they were vapid and vain creatures, obsessed with material wealth, beauty, and prestige. Celeste was only valuable to them, her mother and her aunts, insomuch as she could add to their meticulously cultivated reputations. They paraded her around in children's beauty pageants when she was younger. Celeste won a few, and they loved her for it, praised her, showered her with affection. And then it all stopped when she grew a little older and began to hate the pageants. She'd cry when her mother tried to enter her, and nobody wanted to see a crying little girl on stage. Celeste never won again. The love stopped. The affection dried up. And by the time Celeste realized why, they'd moved on to something new. It was too late for her to gain their affection back.<br/><br/>All of this might have worked against Claire, if not for two things. The first was that not very deep below the surface Celeste craved, she truly, truly craved that strong, feminine role model that had always been missing from her life. It might take a little work from Claire to earn their new girl's trust. But once she had it, she'd never lose it. The second thing was very much Claire's doing. She'd likely never realize it, but the way she welcomed Celeste into their home set the stage for a long and loving relationship. 'Our princess.' Those two words were significant in and of themselves, but it was Claire's tone that truly endeared herself to Celeste. That she was nervous meant she cared. That she was nervous meant she wasn't cold or ambivalent. It meant she was human, unlike the women from Celeste's past.<br/><br/>"Thank you." She said, but it was too late. Claire was already out unpacking what few things remained of hers in the car. Probably a good thing anyway. 'Thank you.' What a weak response! But she didn't know what else to say to such a perfect 'welcome home.'<br/><br/>So, the younger girl followed Karen through the house. It was big and beautiful, but Celeste was used to that. Her parents were quite wealthy. What was new here was the homey environment. A little cliche, perhaps, but one could<em>feel</em>the love in this house. She could smell the love wafting to her nose from whatever meal Claire had been cooking in the kitchen. Another point for Claire. Celeste's mother never cooked. There happy days in this house, and there were sad ones. Probably angry, too. But all of them tinged with love. There were pictures on the walls of sweet memories frozen in time. Each one had a story to it, Celeste knew, and she wanted to hear each one. But not now. Right now, she was just eager to see her room.<em>Her</em>room. She liked thinking that.<br/><br/>Karen pushed the door open, and Celeste stepped inside to a sight that made her chest swell with emotion. She wanted to cry, but dare not. Best not to let Claire and Karen think her crazy! But her eyes did grow damp, and Celeste had to wipe a few tears away with the back of her hand. The bedroom was perfect. It was<em>her</em>. She'd explained to Karen and Claire that her favourite colour was pink, but only in small doses. Too much and, to her, it felt tacky. They found the perfect amount of pink for her room. A few fuchsia coloured pillows mixed with some yellow and apricot on top of a royal blue comforter. The decor was nice, too, and there was room left for her to add some of her own things as she acquired them. Perhaps a few pictures of all three of them once they had a few? She hoped there would be those.<br/><br/>"It's perfect. I love it." She responded, once she was certain she could speak without breaking down into tears. She dropped her backpack down onto the bed, and then sat down onto it, letting the mattress bounce beneath her bum a few times, while she gazed around the room in wonderment.<br/><br/>"I can't believe you did all this for me." Because nobody had ever done anything so thoughtful for her before. But she didn't say that last.