THE REQUEST
I swam out of sleep Sunday morning, immediately regretting that third whiskey, to note what appeared to be an uncertain day in England—not gray, not sunny—and the understanding my slumbering self was paying company to only two felines that morning, Snowball and Gingerface.
Snowball had graduated to sleeping with me on my pillow, and Gingerface was already cuddling me.
“I’m never drinking whiskey again,” I told them.
Gingerface shifted and started making biscuits on my hip.
I gave it some time while I assessed last night’s damage, thankfully realizing I was only a mite queasy and headachy.
Then I asked, “Are we ready to face the day?”
Neither moved.
So I got out of bed, scooped up Snowball, took her to the bathroom and laid her on the fluffy bathmat, went back, grabbed Gingerface and added him to my menagerie.
And then I set about facing the day.
I was surprised to arrive in the breakfast room to see only Tempie there.
Of course, dressed all in white, she looked fabulous and not like we all got semi-snockered on whiskey last night. Battle and Rally disappeared, but Courtney returned and joined us, reporting Chelsea was away in her taxi.
We’d celebrated this news with an ill-advised whiskey number two.
How whiskey number three came about was a bit murky.
“Morning,” I called.
“Vivi,” she replied.
I went directly to the sideboard…and grease.
“How are you feeling?” she asked as I loaded my plate.
“I took some ibuprofen, now I’ll eat some greasy food, and then I’ll be good as gold,” I answered. “How are you?”
“As all good aristocrats do, I’ve learned quite well to hold my liquor.”
That made me smile.
She poured my coffee.
I sat with my plate and added cream to the cup.
“Can I ask you something?” I requested.
“Of course,” she replied, sipping coffee, her empty plate (except the crumbs) that looked like she’d only had toast sitting in front of her.
I had a lot to ask.
I wanted to confirm my suspicions about Chastity, but if what I supposed was true, it wasn’t Tempie’s to give, or mine to have, unless Chassie gave it to me.
I wanted to tell her about Christian, though, upon reflection, I was thinking I needed to let Christian do whatever Christian intended to do.
If he was really interested, he’d make an effort, however that came about, and Chassie was worth that effort.
It was also Chassie’s choice how she’d react to it.
