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She snickers. “Okay. I concede, that one is funny to consider. But what about things like children?”
Exasperated, I throw my hands into the air. “Mama, we’ve been together for a few months. Do all couples discuss these things within the first ninety days? Is there some sort of money back guarantee on relationships if you file for an incompatibility refund by then?”
She bursts into laughter. “You always could make me laugh, Fallon.”
I reach across the table and squeeze her hand. “Until you’re one hundred, I’ll have the chance.”
Her fingers tense around mine. “I hope so too, sweetheart. Now answer the question. What would you give up to have Ethan in your life?”
Giving the question the seriousness it merits, I think about it before I answer, “The answer’s simple—likely everything.”
A blinding smile crosses her face. “Good. That’s what I was hoping you would say.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Send Me an Angel charity board member, Dr. Clarabel Lam, has taken a sabbatical from her position at SMAA to join the program at the St. Peregrine Cancer Research Institute in Seven Virtues, North Carolina. When asked why she chose to make this move, Dr. Lam indicated. “Pain isn’t limited to those we treat at SMAA. If I can both help and learn at St. Peregrine, then aren’t we all better off?”
Dr. Lam’s rotation will last for one year, though she will retain her board seat on SMAA. We wish her nothing but the best of luck.
—StellaNova
In the Tapestry Gallery at Biltmore House, I’m an observer today as much as any of the tourists who will saunter through within the next few hours. My boss wants me to become even more comfortable with the history and maintenance of these priceless pieces left as part of the Vanderbilt estate. I hear a guided tour walk by and, for the third time, hear one of the incredibly trained tour guides explain, “No complete set of The Triumph of the Seven Virtues exists today.”
“Which one is missing?” a man asks.
“The Triumph of Temperance no longer exists anywhere in full glory, although fragments which have been salvaged have been sewn into other tapestries at Biltmore House.”
My heart flips every time I hear that. Those simple words remind me of how I feel when Ethan isn’t by my side—a part of him is with me. A part of me is with him.
In fact, he said something similar to me on the phone last night.
“You’re always on my mind, witch.”
Settling in the oversized chair in my living room, I hold his gaze while I ask evenly, “Is that a good or bad thing?”
“It’s a good thing. It’s like…” His voice fades off.
“Like what, Ethan?” I push, thinking of my conversation with my mother. There are too many things we haven’t yet said, haven’t asked. When we’re together, we burn—consumed by passion. While I never want that to change, I want the warmth of the embers when I know I can be in his embrace, watching the antics of our family, each of us sporting at least one or several gray hairs.
“Like pieces of us were made for each other.”
I suck in a deep breath at the depth of his words.
His face twists in distress. “Too much too soon?”
“If you only knew how perfect that was and it could never be soon enough.”
The crow’s feet next to his eyes crinkle when his strong lips curve.
“Fallon? Fallon?”
I’m ripped from my recollection when I hear my name being called. Giving myself a hard shake, I answer the office staff intern, Julianne, with a smile. “Yes, I’m sorry. I was woolgathering.”
“Rather appropriate to do in this room, I would think,” she replies with a quick longing glance at the tapestries created in the 1520s.
“Is there something I can help you with?”
“I apologize. You received a call. I was asked to notify you it is urgent.” I’m handed a folded slip of paper.