“Fine, I’ll stop the hover,” said Scarlet, gritting her teeth and blinking back her tears before they could fall. “Just comm me the list when you have it, as I wouldn’t want to take up any more of your valuable time.” She stormed back to the entryway. “By the way,” she yelled over her shoulder, “I missed you, too!”
She slammed the door so hard it made the house’s gables shake overhead, but this time there was nothing satisfying about it.
* * *
Michelle was choking on guilt. Scarlet had hardly spoken to her since she returned home yesterday afternoon. Or maybe Michelle was avoiding talking to her, unable to explain why she’d been so upset, unable to apologize in any meaningful way. It seemed easier to be silent. To move around the small house and ignore the other’s existence until this was all over.
She knew it wasn’t right. She wanted to tell Scarlet the truth. But how did you tell your granddaughter that she’d been sent to Paris for a month so you could help a Lunar doctor conduct the delicate operations to turn a missing princess into a cyborg? How did you explain to her that some inventor was coming from the Eastern Commonwealth today to install a device into your nervous system and adopt the girl who’s been secretly kept underneath your hangar for the past eight years? How do you make her understand that if she tells anyone about this, if she lets this humongous secret slip, it could lead to both of you being hunted and tortured and killed?
No, she couldn’t tell Scarlet anything. So she had to go on pretending that she was annoyed that Scarlet had come home early, when normally she would have welcomed her with adoring arms.
She was sick to her stomach over it all.
But it was almost over, she told herself again. Soon, the princess would be gone, and she and Scarlet would be safe, and they could go on with their lives as if this had never happened.
She checked the time on her portscreen. Linh Garan was scheduled to arrive soon. If she’d had more time to think yesterday, she would have waited and sent Scarlet into town with a long list of errands today, but it was too late for that now.
Climbing the creaky stairs, she knocked at Scarlet’s bedroom door. She heard rustling inside before Scarlet opened the door a crack and glared out at her.
Michelle pretended to still be angry with her, too, though she despised herself for it.
Lifting her chin, she said, “This cold is making my arthritis act up and I wasn’t able to do most of the chores this morning. I need you to go do them. The cow will be growing uncomfortable if she isn’t milked soon.”
Scarlet propped open the door a bit more and drew her brows together. “Since when do you have arthritis?”
Michelle met her glare for glare. “You know that I don’t like to complain, Scarlet. I don’t speak of it much.”
“Or ever,” she shot back.
Michelle sighed. She didn’t want to fight. “I know you don’t like milking the cow, but could you please just do it?”
Scarlet threw up her hands. “You could just ask, you know. This is my farm, too. I haven’t complained about doing chores in years, but you still treat me like some spoiled city kid who’s going to throw a tantrum every time you ask me to do something. All I want is to belong here, and for you to treat me like I belong here.”
Michelle’s eyes began to water. She tried to respond, but was rendered speechless.
Scarlet sighed and turned away, the disappointment obvious on her face. Michelle hadn’t thought it was possible to feel worse than she already did.
“You’re right,” Michelle finally whispered. Scarlet glanced back at her, and Michelle gave her a weakened smile. “I’ll try to be better.” She cleared her throat. “So, will you…”
“Of course I’ll go do the chores,” muttered Scarlet, looking only slightly appeased. “Just let me change my clothes.”
She swallowed, watching as her granddaughter pulled her red hair up into a messy bun.
Stars, she loved this child. This child who was becoming a young woman before her eyes.
She couldn’t wait until she could tell her so.
“Thank you,” she said, and made her way back down the stairs.
Minutes later, she heard Scarlet’s footsteps pounding down the stairs. The back door creaked and shut—not a slam, but not particularly gently, either.
No sooner had she started a pot of coffee than she heard a quiet knock at the front door. She tensed. He was early. She hoped Scarlet hadn’t noticed his arrival.
Wiping her clammy hands on a towel, Michelle went to answer the door.
“Bonjour,” she said to the dark-haired man on her stoop. “You must be Monsieur Linh.”
He was fidgeting with the collar of a heavy winter coat, and he didn’t stop fidgeting even when he took her hand. His smile was big, though. Big and eager and nervous and impressed. “And you are Michelle Benoit,” he said. “The keeper of the greatest secret of the third era. It is a most profound honor to meet you.”
Still reeling from the fight with Scarlet, Michelle found it difficult to smile back, so she just stepped aside and offered to take his coat. “My granddaughter lives with me, and I’m afraid she doesn’t know about any of this, so I’ll appreciate your discretion.”
“Of course. If I could not be discreet, I’m sure Logan would not have considered me for this momentous responsibility.”
“I’m sure that’s true. Please, come into the kitchen. My granddaughter is out taking care of some chores. We should have about half an hour to discuss the girl and the procedure before she returns.”