Her face is weathered and aristocratic, the face of a woman who has seen everything and filed most of it under either amusing or disappointing. And her eyes haven't aged a day. Dark brown and sharp, the kind that miss nothing and forgive even less.
She lifts her gaze and her expression moves from surprise to pleasure.
"Madison Berwick." Her mouth stretches in a wide, warm smile. "As I live and breathe."
"Hi, Mrs. Thornwood."
"Agatha." Her eyes turn stern and she tsks at me. "You know me well enough to know I don't like being called Mrs. Thornwood. That stuff is for old people."
I laugh and shake my head. It appears time has not tamed the formidable matriarch of the Thornwood family.
"Agatha." I incline my head.
"Better." She lifts a hand. "Come in. Come in, child. Let me see you."
I come in, drop my bag onto the visitor chair, and hug her, careful not to hold too hard. She still smells the same as I remember, vaguely citrus-y and sweet. Her fur is finer than it looks, soft as the nap of good velvet under my fingers. The silver is new. The feel of it isn't.
"To what do I owe the pleasure of this surprise visit?" She holds both my hands in hers as I sit carefully at her side. "If I knew all I needed to get a pop-in from you was to break my hip, I'd have taken a tumble down those old stairs years ago!"
Yep. Still the same. Sharp tongue and sharp mind, all around. I laugh and feel a bit better.
Over two hours of commuting each way might be brutal, but Agatha Thornwood is as sweet and spicy as ever.
"Please don't!" I shake my head between my chuckles. "I came here for a job interview."
Agatha blinks a few times and then nods.
"They had better hire you." Agatha lifts her pointer finger up like a school teacher about to begin an important lesson. "Or else I'll redden their ears with my complaints."
A surprised chuckle escapes me, and then I register she's actually serious. It's so easy to forget that under her simple, humble attitude, she's an extremely rich and powerful woman.
"Well, I'll take any help I can get."
She chuckles at that, then winces. She tries to hide it, but I saw it and I'm on my feet the next instant.
"Oh, Agatha." I look around the room. "You're sitting much too high for someone who just had hip surgery. Let me help you."
She looks at me with pinched lips and I think she's going to tell me to mind my own business, but another wince of pain contorts her features.
"I just hate lying down like some old, incapable lady," she finally says.
"You're not incapable." I lift my brow at her as I move to the head of the bed and start lowering the angle. "You just need to give yourself some grace and take it easy. Didn't the nurse on staff tell you that?"
I bring her down to the optimal angle and reach for the pillow stack behind her shoulder.
"Lift your shoulders forward an inch for me," I tell her.
"So small and yet, so bossy," Agatha quips, but does as she's told.
"There you go. This will help right away."
I reposition the pillows, two under her torso and one to the left of the hip to brace, then move the wool throw over her legs.
A few moments later, Agatha sighs with relief and the line of her mouth softens.
"That's much better." Agatha takes in a deep breath and looks at me with a pointed, inquisitive expression. "How long have you been a nurse?"
"Eight years," I answer. "I used to work at Mermaid's Heart in New York City in the ICU, but I quit when Mom got sick. Time to get back in the saddle now that she's better."
