“Why would I be mad?”
“Because I have a pinup of your man?” Lucy shrugged with a question mark sort of expression.
“I’ll tell him. He’ll be thrilled.”
“Oh, don’t tell him it was me. I’ll never be able to look him in the eye. I read that journal every month.”
“A financial journal? You’re a curator.”
“Yes, but I don’t want to be stupid with my money. Anyway, Thomas was refreshing compared to their usual covers. Some old bloke with thin hair and cigar-stained teeth.” She sighed again and leaned on the gallery railing. “Funny how a few hundred million dollars can turn a frog into a prince.”
Daffy laughed. “You’re punchy. Go downstairs and eat. Make your spa appointment. I’ll see you back here Monday morning. Unless you want a movie night. Then ring me.” She collected her things and started for her suite. “I’ll be down for some soup.”
Before he’d taken off for the weekend, Chef Charles announced the kitchen was stocked with leftovers, soups, and sandwich fixings, along with a fresh loaf of bread and scones. Daffy already imagined a bowl of his amazing wild rice and chicken soup with a slice of warm, buttered bread.
After storing her tools and kit, she collapsed on the love seat in her suite’s lounge and closed her eyes, just for a moment. She kicked off her shoes. Removed her jacket. Reached for a pillow to prop under her head.
But instead of relaxing, she rehearsed next week’s schedule. Inventorying the remaining dresses, calculating how much work needed to be done to set them up. The newer ones wouldn’t require much tending, so the task would go quicker in the end.
Then there was the chair. Daffy bolted upright. What if Ernst didn’t come through? She’d need to find another way. Take charge. Mum gave her the dickens for a missing wedding veil. One she’d never seen or touched. What would she say about the chair being destroyed while she’d watched?
It will be all right. It will be all right.
Would she really mind a life in the tower, surviving on bread and water? She’d lose those few stubborn pounds from Christmas. Maybe they’d let her read books to pass the time.
She jumped when a text sounded from her slack’s pocket. Let it be Gus. But, no, it was Thomas.
We were at the pub, missing you. Decided to come up. Ski weekend. The lot of us. Please say you’re free.
Really? When?
Now, actually.
Now?
I’m being spontaneous.
I’ll say you are.
She clutched her phone to her chest. Look at Thomas, trying to be more whimsical. More…romantic? He did say he was missing her. Daffy needed to step up her game.
I can’t ski but I’ll be there for lunch and dinner.
A text shot in from Ella.
Can I borrow your gear?
Yes. And water my roses.
I have been.
Honest? Thank you.
Okay I haven’t but I’m sure they’re fine.
This changed things. Lifted her mood. She was going to see Thomas, her fiancé. Goodness, she had a fiancé. She’d been working so hard she hadn’t realized that she’d missed him too.
Lucy texted next.
