the fire. She kicked out small feet, her legs only extending to Logan’s calves. She turned her head and smiled at Ivar. “Faith and Grace are going to talk to your lady. Make sure she’s okay.” Mercy’s bottom lip pouted out. “I wish I could go.”
“I’ll teach her how to shield her brain,” Ivar was quick to reassure her. “Then you can become friends.” He’d like to secure some friends for Promise before he left. “I think she needs that.”
Mercy’s eyes sparkled. “That’s sweet, Ivar.”
Sweet? He’d never been sweet. Not even before—not even the old him. When he was organized and made sure they had what they needed for headquarters. The old him never would’ve never put Promise in a high-rise building in the middle of town. “Thanks?” he murmured.
Logan chuckled and dug his face into Mercy’s neck. “I’m sure Ivar will teach her, and then you can take her through dimensions, baby.”
“No,” Ivar said instantly. “Missy, I mean Promise, can study the issue all she wants, but nobody is transporting her anywhere. That’s final.” He hunched his shoulders and stared into the fire, pointedly ignoring all the chuckles masked by coughs around him. What did they know?
Chapter Sixteen
Surrounded by scraps of yellow legal paper, Promise finished drafting the string solution for an open string, leaving the ends open and what was commonly referred to as floppy. Oh, she had so much work to do. The wind blew gently outside, while the bright moonlight streamed in through the windows. During the day, Ivar had installed a powerful generator, so she had plenty of electricity and was using the internet on her phone. Even so, she missed her office at the university.
Somebody knocked on the door, and she called out for them to come in. It was probably Ivar. She had so many more questions for him and turned to start asking.
“Whoa.” Grace Cooper stepped gingerly over several loose pieces of paper. The brunette wore a thick green sweater and jeans with hiking boots, her hair piled high on her head, giving her that classic look some women just seemed to have naturally. “Obsessed scientist at work.” Lifting her camera, she sidled three steps to the right and leaned forward to take several candid shots.
Promise blinked. She’d met Grace earlier in the day before the young woman had disappeared down the river to photograph wildlife. “Hello.”
“Hi.” Grace smiled, her hazel eyes sparkling.
Her sister walked in behind her, holding a bottle of red wine and three red plastic cups. “Promise.” Faith wore a light gray sweater over darker gray jeans with spectacular cream-colored boots. Just how many pairs of stunning boots did she have, anyway? Her dark hair was long and loose around her slim shoulders. She looked around at the disheveled papers strewn about the room. “Working hard, I see?”
Promise looked at the mess she’d made, for the first time seeing the jumbled confusion. Even the bed was covered with solutions, equations, and theories scribbled over yellow legal paper. “I need my chalkboards.”
Grace snorted and gingerly gathered papers off the old sofa to stack on the coffee table. Then she moved closer to the fire, turned, and snapped several more shots. “I’d love to get a few photographs of you in your work area, surrounded by chalkboards, your hair full of chalk.”
Promise calculated the available light, dimensions of the room, and space. “You’ve studied fractal light?”
Grace lowered the camera. “Huh?”
“Your positioning for both series of shots. They made the best use of light and space,” Promise said, her interest piqued.
Grace shrugged. “I’m a photographer. That’s my job.”
One she apparently did instinctively. Fascinating.
Faith set the wine bottle on the rickety coffee table, twisted it open, and started pouring three cups. “This is a decent Shiraz. Nothing to set your hair on fire, but it’ll do.” She motioned for Promise to get off the floor.
“Oh.” Promise let the papers slide off her knees and stood, stretching her back. She’d changed into dark jeans and a red silk shirt that Ivar had procured from her home earlier. She had twice the curves of either woman, a fact that had always been fine with her. She was healthy, and her brain worked well, so life was good. But her neck ached. Just how long had she been sitting on the floor? What time was it?
Faith motioned her forward. “Let’s chat a little.”
Promise stiffened and then stretched over different stacks of papers to reach the sofa and sit. Girl talk. Wonderful. She never knew how to