Page 30 of Breadwinner

Sarah opened one eye, curious. “Nell, you mean?”

“Yeah.” Emory grinned. “Especially on weekends. She says it’s the one part of her week she can pretend time doesn’t exist.”

Sarah chewed thoughtfully. The image of Nell, so polished and relentlessly composed, lounging in bed until noon on a Sunday, felt oddly intimate and human. “I wouldn’t have guessed that,” she said, setting down her fork.

“She’s totally not what most people expect.” Emory smirked.

Leaning forward, Sarah wiped her hands on a napkin. “What else should I know about her, then?”

Emory tilted her head, considering. “Well... she hates black coffee, but she’ll always ask for it and then pretend I don’t see her adding a ton of milk and sugar. She likes itreallysweet.”

Sarah laughed as she pictured it. “Seriously?”

Emory nodded, delighted. “Seriously. Oh, and she’s terrible with plants. Did you see all those succulents in the living room?”

Sarah thought of the immaculate little pots on the low glass tables. “Yeah?”

“She kills them. Every single one. Those are the third round this season. I keep replacing them for her.”

Sarah smiled, surprised at how easy the image was to summon—Nell frowning in frustration over a withered cactus. “The audacity of those plants to die under her care.”

“She tries. She really tries.” Emory giggled, and Sarah laughed along, the tension she’d been carrying easing with every revelation.

“She’s...” Sarah searched for the right word. More gentle than she expected? More reachable? “Different from what I thought.”

Nell had a reputation that preceded her, but behind the powerful presentation, that reputation didn’t match up with the small glimpses of the woman that Sarah had observed since her arrival.

Emory nodded knowingly. “Most people only ever meet her work self. Out here, she’s just Nell.”

Sarah toyed with her fork as a strange warmth unfurled in her chest. The more Emory spoke about Nell, the more intrigued she became, not just by the contradictions but by the woman behind them. She needed to know more.

“What about music?” Sarah asked.

Emory laughed outright. “You mean besides the classical playlists she pretends she listens to? She loves old-school R&B. Like,reallyloves it. You get a couple of glasses of wine inher, and she’s queuing up everything from Aretha Franklin to Aaliyah.”

Sarah’s mouth parted in genuine astonishment. “That’s...” Unexpectedly endearing?

Before she could say anything else, she caught a shift of movement in the corner of her eye.

Sarah turned. There, leaning against the doorway, arms crossed, with a faint, amused smile playing on her lips, was Nell.

How long had she been standing there?

Her voice was the same velvety-smooth timbre as last night. “Learning all my secrets this early in the morning? Dangerous move,” Nell said, but the wink she tossed Sarah’s way let her know she wasn’t in trouble.

Emory paled slightly. Nell tsked, shaking her head with exaggerated disappointment. “Emory, what have I told you about gossiping with the guests?”

Emory grinned, unrepentant. “Not to do it before you’ve had your coffee?”

“That’s right,” Nell said, her voice warm, in mock scolding. She pushed off the doorway and sauntered in, looking maddeningly relaxed in a linen shirt and loose shorts, her dark hair a little messy like she’d just rolled out of bed, which, given the conversation, she probably had.

Nell’s eyes flicked to her, lingering in an unreadable way. “Come on,” she said, tilting her chin toward the sliding glass doors. “Bring your food. I hate eating inside when it’s this nice out. Emory, please bring my coffee out with breakfast, black like always.”

Sarah grabbed her plate to follow, but only after she caught Emory’s eye and theSee? I told you so!lookEmory shot at her.

The lightness of the house gave way to morning haze and salted air, and the bay glittering beyond a stone retaining wall.

Nell dropped into one of the wide, cushioned lounge chairs and patted the one beside her. “Sit. Relax.”