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Money doesn’t buy happiness, but it does buy me peace and quiet andthatis invaluable in this household.
Gripping the railing at the bottom of the stairs I catch myself at the last second before I’m almost taken out by my son’s forgotten shoes.
Sprinting, a maid comes by, smiling apologetically before grabbing them.
Clearing my throat, I restraighten my tie, reassuring her it’s alright but since she’s here I ask for my coffee as well.
Bobbing her head, she hugs Finn’s other forgotten items to her chest. A coat, his book bag, and the newest addition, the shoes all leftover from the night before.
Rushing, my son comes in, whooshing past the poor woman like a tornado. One minute he’s here, the next he’s gone. His storm of giggles echoes down the hall in his glee.
“Ha, gotcha, Dad!” he explodes joyfully.
His high-pitched squeals around the house are so much better than my wife’s prudent ones.
Coming back with a coffee, the maid hands it over, but I hardly have a sip before I’m heading out the door and arrive at Hardin. I’m too alert about what this meeting is for. Another fresh one will be waiting for me in my office anyway.
Stepping into Silas’s office, I don’t have the slightest clue what this is about. The cryptic tenacity of his message alarms me.
“Silas, I need you to make this quick—” The words grow stale, dying there on my tongue as the chair turns around.
I gulp past my confusion as the woman folds her arms together on the desk.
“Camellia?” I puzzle aloud.
Those sharp cerulean eyes of hers tracking my every breath of air. Her dark-ebony hair and petite heart-shaped face a far contrast to the sharp lines of her husband’s stature.
“Why are you here? Where’s Silas?” I ask, sounding impatient but not impersonal. She and I have always gotten along well enough.
At one time she and Lillian were not quite friends but more than formal acquaintances? She and Lorna never have had that relationship.
“He’s not the one who texted?” I already know the answer, but I ask anyway.
Her smirk tells me she’s amused by my expected confusion but that’s not surprising. Camellia has always been cunning. People have never been willing to give her enough credit, only ever praising Silas.
She’s crafty. More so than her husband, quite possibly. She’s poised but not one to be underestimated.
Extending her arm, she points at the chair across from his desk. “Sit,” she directs more than requests.
I agree, taking a seat out of curiosity more than anything.
Rarely does she make her appearance known here at Hardin. Whereas I practically have to bribe my wife with a monthly spa trip to not show up.
Knowing Silas though he probably has a similar mindset, only I’m sure he doesn’t have to bribe Camellia. She just doesn’t come.
The man’s mind is revolutionary when it comes to business, no one can deny that. His downfall? He’s as detached and as dead as they come, and I would expect nothing less at his home.
Silas lives to work, not raise a family. His child, Cole, was born out of necessity rather than love.
Camellia leans forward and the action draws me from my thoughts. “So how are you, Abram?”
“Fine,” I acknowledge, straightening out this horrendously hideous-colored tie. “An active morning, but I’m sure you know all about that with Cole,” I add, making polite conversation.
“I do… understand,” she agrees with a small chuckle.
I can’t decide if it’s forced or natural. That’s how skilled she is. Slick.
That’s not what tells me she has an agenda though. It’s in the little things like how she keeps her voice neutral, no fluctuation. A true professional, not showing her nerves,ifshe has any.
