Page 74 of Perfect Satisfaction

I rub the spot in my elbow where a phlebotomist pulled a tube of blood a short time ago to show a scared victim it wouldn’t hurt. “Was Portia able to draw the blood from Lucia?”

“Yes. Now, let me see your bruising,” she demands.

I hold out my arm and she carefully unwraps the compression bandage.

She winces. “Did you drink before you came in?”

“Coffee. Wait, you didn’t hear how quickly I needed to race to the loo when Portia was done?” We share a mutual laugh.

“No, that hadn’t made its way up to me yet.” She prods at the bruise, but I don’t flinch.

“Truly, it doesn’t hurt.”

“Your pale skin doesn’t help.” She tries to keep a serious face.

“Everyone is pale when they first come in here.” But to appease her concern, I sit up straight and say primly, “Dr. Lam, I know how to treat this.”

“Oh, do you, Ms. Moore? Let me hear it.”

“Ice pack for about twenty minutes, on and off a couple of times as needed during the first twenty-four hours. Switch to a warm compress for the second twenty-four.”

“Don’t forget the arnica.”

“As if. I believe I own stock in it, Bel.” I address her as few do since we sit on a number of fundraising boards together, not just for SMAA. “How are the numbers?”

“We’re well funded for the next few years,” she begins. For the next few hours, we go over the budget I’ve established. Then I give her the list of new donations I obtained and she whoops. “Between this and the gala, we might have a chance of keeping our doors open for the next decade.”

As if my brothers would let the last piece of my heart completely shut down,I think silently. But I don’t share that. Here, I’m just Sula Moore. No one knows me as Ursula Moore, daughter to software giant West Moore. I prefer to keep it that way.

She stands and holds out her hand, which I take gratefully. “Get out of my office, Sula. Everything is running perfectly—just like you planned.”

I wince as I slide into my jacket. She reminds me, “Don’t forget the arnica.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t.”

“But in the meanwhile, get some more sleep.” I freeze in the process of doing up my buttons. “You look like you’ve been put through a ringer.”

I waive it off. “Personal issue. It will resolve itself.”In another twelve months,I think wearily.

“Well, deal with it. Sleep is imperative to your health,” she orders.

“Yes, Doctor.” With that, she holds out her hand for me to shake before escorting me from the room. We chat about her kids until we reach the checkout desk. “Be well, Sula.”

“You too, Bel.” For just a moment I give thought to the laundry list of items I have to do. Then I realize Arek’s at work and I know what I want to do more than anything.

Take a nap.

I desperately need some of that sleep I’m obviously lacking.

An arm shoving me in the shoulder is the first clue that something’s not right. I’ve been dreaming of Arek and my father. The two of them were getting along famously.

It was me who was left out. No surprise there.

That was until they yanked me into their circle.

In my dream, I’m wearing a dress made of entirely of pink fur and I have a red ruby tiara on. My shoes are combat boots.

They started spinning me around and around while singing “Ring Around the Rosie” in the garden behind my father’s house in London.