Snip. Snip, snip, snip.
At the end of the path, upon a ladder wide enough to support his large frame, perched Mr. Macaw. In the groundkeeper’s hands was an enormous pair of sheers, which he used with expert precision as he sliced and snipped a new topiary into submission. Alora stared awhile, transfixed, as the glinting blades maneuvered through the greenery. She couldn’t yet tell what it was meant to be.
“Good afternoon, Mister Macaw.”
Snip. Snip.
She frowned.He must not have heard me. The storm is loud.“I didn’t know you were such an artist!” There. He couldn’t have missed that. She’d practically shouted.
But aside from a brief pause in his work, the groundskeeper continued on. Alora was more than a little offended now, wondering what she could have done to earn his ire. Until she remembered their parting. His meeting with Master Merridon and the wheelbarrow. Perhaps she’d gotten him into some trouble with management. Discarding her feelings, she hurried down the pebbled path, far enough that she came upon his opposite side.
“Mister Macaw. Have I caused you trouble?”
She thought he would continue snipping and slashing forever when he didn’t immediately turn around, and she made to leave on a defeated sigh, when he shifted at last. His long gray hair lay lank around his head as he held a finger to his lips. A single gesture and no words.
Alora could only nod her understanding.
Yes, something wasverywrong.
Madam Feebledire answered at the end of her third knock, and the crease between the woman’s eyes became a canyon upon seeing Alora standing there.
“Miss Pennigrim.”
“Madam.”
“Well, hurry in. You’re nearly late, which would be a horrible offense, considering.”
Alora could take it no more. “Considering what? Where is Reg—the usual guard?”
A scoff burst from Madam Feebledire. “Reginald,is it? Do you ignore all warning and instruction, Miss Pennigrim, or only when it suits you?”
Alora’s eyes widened, taken aback. “What do you mean?”
“Imean—Nevermind. You’ll find out soon enough. Door Zero. Good luck.”
Alora briefly contemplated yelling out for Madam Feebledire not to abandon her, but the woman was already far away. It was just as well. She would have only scowled at Alora in disgust over her raised voice and abandoned her anyway.
You are a professional, Alora, she reminded herself.Business meetings are a part of the work. As are disgruntled clients.
If disgruntled was even what he was. Oh, she should have run when she had the chance. Damn her stubbornness!
Alora knocked three times.
The door swung in.
“Ah, Miss Pennigrim. Two o’clock, exactly. I do enjoy your promptness.”
“Master Merridon.” Alora inclined her head as she stepped in, noting with a practiced air that the owner of Opulence sat rather rigid in his seat. He wore a golden jacket today, finer than when she’d first met him, and his smile, though still meant to charm, seemed fixed. “You wished a meeting with me?”
“I did. Care for some refreshment?”
The sight of the crystal bottle of clear liquid upon his desk along with matching tumblers brought back unwanted memories. Alora shook her head. “No, thank you.”
“Then let us jump straight into it then. Sit, please. How do you feel your progress on our project is coming along?”
Ugh. She hated questions worded in such a way. It left her feeling like a trap was being carefully assembled at her feet. And she did not want to be trapped by a man like Merridon. She sat.
“It is, perhaps, moving a little slower than I’m accustomed to, but part of that is the distance. I still have a clear idea of what I intend for it, and I’ve not missed a deadline yet. I won’t in this project either.” She offered him her most polished smile.
