Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 50869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50869 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 254(@200wpm)___ 203(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
“Yes.” Eleanor sips her tea. “The land dispute has consumed my son’s attention for weeks. Your contribution frees him to handle matters only he can address.”
She sets the cup down, precise, silent. “You’ve been well-received, Mable. The staff adores you. The dress shop incident—that was genuine goodwill, not calculation. People respond to authenticity.”
“Thank you.” I don’t know what else to say. The praise feels like a prelude. The hammer is about to drop.
“But.” She holds up one finger, and I brace myself. “I wonder if you understand what you’re committing to. Research in archives, staff affection, and favorable press—these are the pleasant parts. The parts that feel like success.”
“I know there’s more.” I think of the security motorcade, the gates, and the flags. “The protocols, the scrutiny—”
“Yes. All of that.” Eleanor leans forward slightly, and I see something unexpected in her face. Not coldness. Concern. “But also the waiting. The uncertainty. The life where your schedule is never your own, where your body is discussed in newspapers, where your children—” She stops. Her jaw tightens.
“Your children?” I repeat, and my voice sounds strange in my own ears.
“I was not born into this.” She says it quietly, almost to herself. “I met Caldwell’s father, and I loved him before I understood what he was. What I would become. And then I was pregnant, and there was no time to reconsider. I didn’t have space to even consider if I wanted this, if I wanted my children to have it too.”
She meets my eyes, and I see the younger woman she described, uncertain and I’m sure overwhelmed. The room feels too warm. I think of Truly, glowing with a wanted pregnancy. If I am pregnant, it wouldn’t have been planned either, and I’m not sure how Wells would handle that. I hate the idea of getting married because of it. That’s not how I’d want things to go.
“Are you warning me?” I ask.
Eleanor’s expression shifts, something almost like regret. “No. I’m...” She pauses, choosing her words, always so careful of what she says. “I’m telling you that I see you trying. And that I was wrong to make it so hard at the beginning.” She sets her teacup down and meets my eyes. “Caldwell is happier than I’ve seen him in years. That matters to me.”
I blink, surprised.
She stands, and I quickly stand with her, still processing what is happening here.
“Mable.” She pauses at the door, giving me a soft smile, not appearing like a queen but a mother. “If you ever want to talk... about any of it, I’m here.”
Then she’s gone, and I’m lingering with the warmth of unexpected kindness.
I check the time. James is probably waiting. I hurry back to the kitchen and grab the sourdough loaf I made yesterday evening while waiting for Wells to get home. I tuck it into a cloth bag.
The archives are waiting. And so am I.
Chapter Eighteen
CALDWELL
Patience has never been difficult for me. It was ingrained into me even at a young age with the knowledge that I would one day rule.
When you’re stuck or unsure, stepping back can help you find answers or return with a fresh perspective.
Clearly, my patience is now zero. I keep checking my email, wondering when Zorn is going to get back to me. I found the ring I want to give to Mable. I’ve been working on it for weeks. Initially, I knew I needed a ring, but when I searched online to get an idea—since I didn’t know much about rings—all I found were plain ones. None of them reminded me of Mable.
With a little help from an old friend, we’d found four possibilities. Each of the rings has a rich history, but still, they weren’t right. That’s when it hit my dumb ass. I needed a family ring. That meant going to the vault and looking over the collection. Once I picked the perfect one, Zorn took over to get it sized. I want the damn ring already, but I have to wait. It’s killing me. It’s already been long enough. My patience is wearing thin. I need Mable to officially be mine. For her to be wearing my ring so that all others know she’s mine forever.
Once I get it, I only have to wait for the right time. I want it to be perfect for her. She deserves that.
“Caldwell.”
I blink.
Cordelia stands across from me, her finger still on the map, waiting. How long has she been waiting?
“Sorry. What?” I don’t have a clue what we’d been talking about. This might be why I’m not finding a solution to the problem. It doesn’t help that I used to be able to watch Mable on the security cameras at home. With her out and at the library most days, I don’t get to have eyes on her. It helped keep me working. I suppose I could have cameras installed late tonight. After she heads home, which should be about now.