“Well? Talking or leg breaking? Which will it be?”
“You don’t scare me, Mrs. I know you’re more powder puff than demon.”
“Yes, well, I admit to being fond of you, but understand this. I’m obligated to like Rosie more. Capiche?”
He chuckled softly. “As you should. Given the threats, I’m going to need some guarantees of my safety before I risk dinner. Not to mention the passes.”
“No worries. I’ll be bringing the handcuffs.”
“Funny.”
“You know I’m not joking. No handcuffs, no passes. That’s the rule. You have a reprieve until tomorrow night. Then you have to face the parents and blab.”
Again, he didn’t answer right away. “What are we having?”
She laughed. Any doubt that the caller might have been masquerading as Glen dissolved with that question.
“Nine o’clock. Your time.”
“Okay. I’ll be the cute one in the hallway outside Sol’s conference room. I mean outside the Sovereign’s conference room.”
“The cute one?”
“Okay. I’ll be the only one there.”
She chuckled at him and disconnected.
Glen sat on the edge of his bed and continued to stare at the phone wondering why he’d thought there was something, anything, in the world that could override the ache in his heart from being separated from Rosie. When she’d issued an ultimatum, “Call by Thursday night or else,” he’d reasoned that starting a long-term relationship with caving to demands would set a dangerous precedent and an expectation of servitude. Nothing about that sounded appealing to a werewolf. Even a quarter werewolf.
So he had deliberately let the deadline slide thinking her burn would cool and they would work it out. He was practically watching for the clock to roll over midnight, just past ultimatum, so he could call. She had said supper Thursday. He did the math. The Storms usually had dinner at seven Pacific time. There was a three hour time difference between New Jersey and Napa Valley. That meant ten his time. So he decided to wait a couple of hours past to prove his point, save his pride and their future.
At exactly midnight he tapped her contact number. She didn’t answer so he left a message and followed that with a CALL ME text. No reply.
It was the first time he’d gone for ten days straight without seeing Rosie since she’d been born and he was feeling the loss in painful ways. He couldn’t begin to estimate the number of messages he’d left. A hundred maybe.
He didn’t think there was anything funny about being forced to call her parents for information, but he was getting borderline desperate. He needed to get in touch with her and sort it out.
Storm was in and out of Jefferson Unit frequently, helping out with keeping things in order until the new Sovereign took over. Although no one knew when that would be because there was no one on the horizon.
If people with the profile and qualities of potential Black Swan knights were rare, the profile and qualities of a Sovereign were practically non-existent. It had to be someone who had once served as an active duty knight, who could tolerate administrative work, with the common sense of a problem solver, the judgment of a sage, and the charisma of a leader.
Good luck finding all that in one package.
Storm made a point of taking Farnsworth into the club lounge for coffee in front of the fire or having lunch with her twice a week. Nobody had ever specifically taught him that friends look out for the widows of friends, but he felt like that was the right thing to do. Although Sol and Farnsworth hadn’t been married when he died, Sol had told Storm that he was surrendering his bachelorhood in the very near future.
Farnsworth was touched by Storm’s attentions and came to lean on him for emotional support, which he offered freely. When the initial haze of grief began to lift from her heart, she occasionally had thoughts about something other than the hole left in her life.
“Sir Storm.” She set her cup into its saucer and looked over at Storm who sat cattycornered in a plush chair. “The night before Sol died, we talked about something from my past. I had a teenage pregnancy and gave the baby up for adoption on the advice of counselors.”
Storm looked solemn, his dark eyes reflecting a little of her sadness. On several occasions Farnsworth had thought that she’d never known a better listener. He nodded for her to continue.
“Sol thought I should try to find her and I feel…” She paused to take a couple of deep breaths and look away. When she felt like her composure was restored, she said, “I feel like I need to do that for me and also for him.”
“You want Black Swan to locate her? Gather some information?”
Farnsworth nodded. “Her birthday is April 22nd. She’ll be twenty-eight. The adoption took place in Fall River.”
“Is that in…?”