I drop the clutter of things in my hands and rush over to place mine in hers. Carefree laughter bubbles up from my chest as she twirls me around.
“Look at you!” Margaret cheers. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear a dress.” The baby-blue cotton falls languidly to my knees as I slow to a stop. “Why are you so happy?” she asks.
I clutch onto the counter as I wait for the dizziness to subside. “It just felt like a day worth celebrating.”
Margaret drops her mouth in shock, eyes skimming over my face in disbelief. “Did you synthesize your finalcompound?”
Holy shit, we’re shooting for the stars with that one.
“That would be the celebration of all celebrations, but expectedly,no.”
She frowns, and the silence stretches. My gaze drifts around the room, taking in the stillness—no TV humming, no radio playing. It’s never this quiet around here.
“How come you don’t have the news on today?” I ask Margaret as I grab the remote to turn it on.
Two ladies, one in a purple blouse and the other in a blue blouse, pop up shortly after, looking a little too invested in whatever they’re talking about. While I don’t pay attention to what’s being said online, the crazed look in their eyes and their incessant gasps pique my curiosity.
“Oh, I don’t think that’s such a great idea.” Margaret laughs nervously, making a beeline for the remote with grabby hands.
I shoo her away, wanting to hear what’s being said. The headline, rolling in white at the bottom of their broadcast, doesn’t give me nearly enough information to put this to rest. Especially when Arjun and Nora were talking about this not too long ago.
Nate Archer—Sparking Up the Wildest of Storms. Here’s How This Once Brilliant Engineer Trashed His Career.
I crank up the volume when their lips move, and no sound comes out.
“Let’s talk about our fallen angel for a second.” Purple Blouse turns to her co-star, hands clasped together on their circular table. “Aside from the spark that ignited during his most anticipated event of the year, he’s been brewing up quite a bit of controversy.”
Blue Blouse nods in agreement. “That is correct. He’s apparently been caught using his company as a cover to mingle with younger employees.”
“And honestly, who could blame them—look at how handsome he is,” Purple Blouse agrees.
A picture of this so-called man is about to appear on the screen when it suddenly goes black.
I turn back to Margret in shock, mouth ajar as I spot the remote in her hand. “What was that about? I never listen to the news. I wanted to know what was happening for once!”
“It’s best you don’t this time.” She shoves the remote in the pocket of her apron.
My brows furrow in confusion, but to my dismay, she quickly changes the topic. “So what is it about today that’s worth celebrating?”
“Freedom,” I finally confess.
The woman I’ve come to consider like a grandmother deadpans. “Freedom from what?”
Freedom from seeing the one man I hate the most. Melanie mentioned that we’d have to get together this weekend to become acquainted. But now that it’s Sunday, and no one has contacted me, I’d say I’m safe.
I keep that information to myself, though.
“Need help with anything?” I ask, glancing around the kitchen.
By the looks of it, the answer is no. The lamb is already in the oven, emitting the most mouthwatering aroma. Margaret’s famous apple pie sits on the counter in all of its golden-brown glory. Fluffy white rice and salad rest in their respective bowls.
Our weekly Sunday dinner is complete, and I make a mental note not to get side-tracked in the lab next time to help out.
“That is not nearly enough information, Missy,” she scolds.
I shrug, choosing to act clueless. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Vivienne, this is how you give old ladies a stroke. Is that what you're trying to do?”
