Elora did hire an architect from Derry to draw up plans for renovating the house and building a very fine kennel out of the same stone used to build the house. They decided to stay at the New Forest cottage until the property was ready, reasoning that it would be harder in the future to enjoy the cottage with a small child. They conspired to make the most of their final weeks as just two elves in love. And a dog.
***
CHAPTER_5
Heaven was running a little later than usual. She was having a classic bad hair day and, even though she could care less what Istvan Baka thought of her hair, it would be unprofessional not to take an extra couple of minutes with her appearance.
She decided to get a coffee and bagel and eat at her desk. Being late wasn't one of the ways she chose to rattle the boss. There were much more entertaining ways to get under his skin.
Perhaps she was starting to feel a little guilty about her treatment of Mr. Baka. She was certainly not ready to concede or relent, but she might be ready to cut him a little slack.
On impulse she put some daisies in a glass milk bottle and brought it along intending to place it on his desk. She saw no reason why the vampire - and she didn't know why she couldn't seem to stop calling him that - didn't deserve to have a little cheer. After all, he carried his burden so silently and with such dignity in the face of the fact that she was relentlessly prickly and unapproachable. It was fifteen minutes after nine when she rushed into the office, shoulder bag stuffed full, breakfast clutched in a paper bag with daisies occupying the other free hand.
She had planned to go straight to his desk and set the flowers down with a smile. In fact, as she had hurried along the halls a little fantasy had played out in her head about his reaction. He would be shocked by the flowers and even more stunned by her smile. He would, in fact, be speechless and the image of that gave her a pleasant chuckle.
By the time she opened the door to the office she was eager. But no one was there. In fact the lights hadn't even been turned on. She set her things down on her desk and flipped the switches. Even with the room well lit, it seemed somehow colder and emptier than it should; meaning colder and emptier than usual. Following that thought along its logical path she had to confront an inescapable conclusion that Mr. Baka must add warmth and energy to the space he occupied even if his office mate behaved like a toad.
She placed the daisies on his desk and exercised her femininity by fooling with them until they looked properly fluffed and optimistic.
Shaking herself with a slight internal reprimand about how counterproductive and pointless superstition could be, she told herself that anybody could be late once in a while. After all, she had been that very morning. So, opening the folder she'd been working on the day before, she set about tackling the day's scheduled tasks. Now and then she looked up at the wall clock and over at the conspicuously empty desk. Well, perhaps, it was more often than now and then. In fact, she had probably spent more time looking at the clock than looking at the figures she was supposed to be analyzing for feasibility.
At ten she called his phone number to see if he was sick. There was no answer. She left a message asking if there was something in particular he would like her to do in his absence. She allowed a little more warmth than usual to creep into her tone. When she ended the call she imagined that he had seen her name on his Caller ID and sneered at it, thinking, "Fuck you."
At eleven she got up and walked over to look out the window as if she expected to see him out on the street feeding pigeons or hailing cabs for the doorman. On the way by his desk she rearranged the daisies one more time. They looked a lot more cheerful than she felt.
At twelve she called Simon who tried to extinguish alarm.
"Heaven, I don't mean to sound abrupt or overly dismissive, but Baka is a Project Manager. He has no requirement to report his whereabouts every second of every day to either you or me."
"Of course not. I know that. It's just that this is very unlike him. He's... precise."
"Precise?"
"Yes, I mean..." She was getting flustered and beginning to sound less calm and professional. "He takes a very serious approach to his job, treats it like a mission, like the world depended on the outcome."
Simon's voice was very soft when he responded. "Maybe it does."
Something about hearing that said in that way made Heaven want to burst into tears.
"Director Tvelgar, I'd like to post an official missing person's report. I know something is wrong."
There was silence on the other end of the phone for a full minute. "Ms. McBride, you know I admire you as a scholar. I'm the one who recommended you for the job, if you remember."
"Yes."
"Although I admire the fact that you have an impressive resume for someone your age, psychic talent is not among your skills set if memory serves."
"Everyone is intuitive to some degree, Simon. You know that."
He sighed. "Leave it till tomorrow morning. If we haven't seen or heard something by then, we'll start to look around. He may have gone to visit friends."
"Friends?" She sounded incredulous. As if the idea of Istvan Baka having friends was preposterous.
"Perhaps Sir Hawking and Lady Laiken."
"He's not answering his phone and he hasn't returned my call."
"If there's no word by tomorrow morning, I will consider opening his apartment."