I've done it, old bull. I took us to the Pacific.
I should feel something stronger than this. I keep waiting for it and it doesn't come. What is here instead is something that takesup space in the chest. Like finishing a sentence someone else started and realizing the room they were speaking in is empty.
The intercom clicks.
"Afternoon, Mr. Thornwood." My secretary's voice comes through immediately.
"I'm ready for the afternoon docket, Gertrude. You can come in."
The next moment, Gertrude walks in. She is an orc woman of impeccable style and poise and even after ten years I still haven't gathered the courage to ask her age. Not that I think she would answer.
It doesn't matter. She is as efficient as a hell hound and as clever as a sphinx and I pay her generously enough to ensure I will never have to find out what the alternative looks like.
Her spring green skin is offset by a charcoal skirt and ivory blouse, her polished tusks gleaming under the harsh office light. Her black hair is worn in a tight chignon at her nape. She carries a tablet under one arm and a coffee in the other. She sets both at the right corner of my desk and takes a step back.
"How was Positano?" I ask before she can take another step toward the door.
She turns with a surprised expression. Then her lips stretch in a genuine smile.
"It was wonderful, sir. Thank you."
I nod, satisfied with the answer, then reach for my coffee.
"I still don't know how I'll make it up to you," she says. "It was so generous of you."
"It was a wedding gift. You have nothing to repay me." I frown, then take a sip. Perfect. Gertrude is truly a gem. I'd send her to Fiji for two weeks every year just to have the pleasure of drinking her coffee on a day like today. "All I wanted to know is if you and your mate had a good time."
"It was the best two weeks of my life."
"Then that's all I need to know."
She turns for the door. She is almost through it when she stops and looks back.
"Sir, one more thing. There's a Mrs. Fairweather on the second line. She's called twice. She said it was urgent both times. I told her you were in an important business meeting and I'd put her through the moment you were free."
I put the coffee down.
Mrs. Fairweather is the housekeeper for my family's estate in Saltford Bay. She has worked for my grandmother for over thirty years. In those thirty-plus years, Mrs. Fairweather has called this office exactly three times. Twice about my grandmother's seventieth birthday party. Once when the Stronghold's north wing caught fire in 2019.
If she called, she has a reason.
"Put her through. Close the door."
Gertrude nods and closes the door.
The line picks up before the first ring finishes.
"Demetrius." Mrs. Fairweather's voice is shaky and thin. It puts me on high alert.
"What is it, Mrs. Fairweather?"
"Your grandmother fell this morning. The landing at the top of the main stairs," she says all of that in a single breath, and my body goes cold, from the tip of my horns to the bottom of my hooves. "They're taking her to Elven Mercy in Portland as we speak."
That cold feeling spreads to my ribcage and I have to force air into my lungs to keep breathing.
"Is she..."
"She'll be fine, Demetrius. She asked me if I had remembered to turn the kettle off before the ambulance took her away."
