Page 23 of Prior Claim
Or perhaps it was better said that she’d finally allowed herself to start being a child. In private. In stolen moments. Once she’d given up being anyone’s woman.
Ellisandre chose a towel from the rods on the wall and set it on the warmer, turning up the temperature to hurry it along.
The counter around the sinks were in the same state the bedroom had been. A few moments of organizing cleared the flat spaces and returned serums, lotions, and brushes to their places. Empty face mask packets went into the rubbish bin. The water turned off and the shower door opened.
Ellisandre reached for the warmed towel.
“Elli.” Linda stopped in the entrance to the shower, water running in trails over the swell of her chest, down her belly and over her hips.
Perfect, unblemished skin. It hadn’t always been that way. But whatever marks had been left were now gone. None of them had lasted, not like Sevastyan’s.
“Elli?”
Ellisandre dragged themselves away from contemplating Linda’s soft, protected surface. “Your towel, my lady.”
Linda took the towel from Ellisandre’s hand. “You didn’t have to clean up.”
Elli raised an eyebrow.
Linda’s shoulders slumped. “I was getting to it.”
Ellisandre narrowed their eyes.
Linda wrapped the towel around her torso like it could protect her from any accusations. “I was.”
“You were getting to it next year. Which is saying something. This year is three days old.”
Linda snorted. “Baby year.”
“The infants are out there.” Ellisandre tilted their head in the direction of Dana and Alice.
“They’re fed.”
“Alice fed all of you. With takeout.”
Linda fluttered her eyes. “I paid for it.”
Ellisandre shook their head, a reluctant smile tugging at the side of their mouth. “You were going through spreadsheets again.”
“Maybe.” Linda started drying off. “The partnership in Indianapolis is looking promising. Oh, and I wrote my speech for next month. It’s shared.”
“I’ll check it.” Ellisandre took the towel back from Linda and hung it up.
Linda wandered into the bedroom and flung herself down on the bed, then shivered. Ellisandre followed and tossed Linda’s favorite fuzzy bathrobe at her. Linda grinned and wrapped herself in it. “I really like the numbers. And the diversity is solid, good mix of different venues. It meets all our requirements. And with Richard putting in the train line, we should exceed the required profit margins.”
“And you think the artist mockups are pretty.”
Linda giggled. “They are pretty. I’m going to make them plant cherry blossom trees down the center concourse. Then we can add a local cherry blossom festival. We’ll put them right inside the upper porches for the cafes.
Ellisandre sat on the edge of the bed and took one of Linda’s feet in their hand, digging their thumb into the arch of Linda’s foot where the tension always gathered after hours in her heels.
Linda rolled onto her back and groaned. “How did you know?”
Ellisandre snorted, delicately. After all their years together, there was little about Linda they did not know.
And many things that Linda did not know concerning them.
It was better this way. Linda was their bright and shining object, the glow that lit up the endless night, a reminder of why wars were fought and blood was shed: so that someone else, somewhere else, would not need to bleed.
