I hope everyone had a wonderful weekend. It was hot here, of course, but we made it through just fine. I dragged JT to garage sales looking for the perfect piece of furniture to go in my newly redecorated living room. After three hours, we went to WalMart and I picked up a pretty, cherry cabinet. Now if only I could keep the Terrors off it!
I have been busy, busy working on Mistress of Malice and Mercy (half-finished, yay!) and Sometimes it is Rocket Science (also half-finished, another yay!). Here is another snippet of SiiRS:
Georgiana paused in the doorway to Yvonne’s office to let her assistant know she was giving Robert a tour of the building. The elevator ride to the lobby was uncomfortable. Despite his earlier laughter, she was afraid he was still hung up on her comment about trust. The orange indicator light switched from 12 to 11. She slammed her hand on the emergency stop button.
“Dan has joint custody of Ken,” she blurted, throat tight and eyes fixed on the closed doors. “Not his stock or trust, that’s all on me, but over Ken’s wellbeing. It’s how Dad set it up. Dad trusted your father with one of the most important things in his world. I’m following Dad’s example.”
Robert was silent, but she knew he was listening. She exhaled shakily and, glad she’d worn heels that made their height difference negligible, met his inscrutable stare. “Daniel was there when Mom died and again for Dad’s death. Trusting him is like breathing because he’s always been there. I’m sorry, Bobby, but I just don’t know you that well any more.”
“I know you would have wasted away your freshman year if I hadn’t dragged you out of the library for meals.” Robert held up a hand to stave off the impending rebuttal. “You would have been late to every one of your classes if I hadn’t given you that tour or drawn you a map.”
Her lips curved upwards at the mention of the last time she and Robert had spent quality time together. Her first year at MIT had been his last. He’d taken time out of his busy schedule wowing professors and seducing undergrads to show Georgiana around. As children, they’d bonded over the isolationism of being the children of wealthy, famous parents and the tribulations that went along with genius. In college, they’d commiserated about expectations and overprotective fathers. After Robert’s MIT graduation, he’d gone to Oxford for an additional year of study. Their friendship rapidly faded to polite nothings at social functions and impersonal holiday cards.
I also know you wouldn’t have passed that Elements of Software Construction class without my help,” he continued.
Georgiana shook off the melancholy to glare at him. “Oh? And who was it that helped you with that Statistical Physics class when they were, oh I don’t know, in high school?”
Robert’s rumbling laughter bounced off the elevator’s metal walls. “You are aware that when you say ‘high school’ it does not mean the same as it would for anyone else, aren’t you?”