Page 27 of Conail
"All right. Give me a few minutes." His voice was cold with displeasure, but at least, he had agreed to be here.
"Thank you, darling."
With the call ended, Eleanor took a deep breath and prepared herself for the evening ahead. The charity ball was an event she looked forward to every year, and this time, it held even more significance. She had to be strong, not just for herself, but for Yasmine, Maeve, and everyone who depended on her. As she dressed for the event, her thoughts kept drifting to the plans she had laid out. Her son's involvement was crucial, and she would make sure he understood that fully. Tonight was just the beginning -- a step towards healing and solidarity.
*****
Yasmine figured she could at least venture downstairs. Eleanor had explained that she had to attend a function, and she had sent the woman on her way. Just because she was suffering, doesn't mean everyone should suffer along with her.
And she was tired of being an invalid. The beautiful rose and gold room that had delighted her so much when she first got here, was starting to feel like a prison. She hadn't been out in more than two weeks and was feeling on edge. Her stomach was sore, and her mouth tasted foul. She had to be brushing everyfew minutes. Everything tasted like crap to her, and she longed to drink a cup of coffee and eat a good meal. Even the thought of her beloved fried chicken made her feel like gagging.
Nothing tasted good to her. And this was just the first trimester. She had six freaking months to go and was wondering if she was going to make it.
The place was as silent as a church and just as neat. Eleanor told her she had given the staff the holiday off, which she found very strange. She had no idea rich people did such a thing. When Yasmine had expressed her surprise and blurted it out in her own blunt manner, the woman had laughed and did not look in the least bit offended.
"My husband started the tradition. We would send the staff on their way and manage on our own. Usually, we would take off to some warmer climate for a week or more. Even though he's no longer here, I still continue to honor his wishes."
Yasmine thought it was admirable. She admired Eleanor. The woman did not put on airs and was genuinely friendly and nice. She had opened her home to a perfect stranger when she did nothave to. And was making sure that Yasmine was well taken care of.
It was the first time she had the opportunity to explore downstairs, and she found herself wandering from one elegant room to the other, her mind buzzing as she took in the priceless arts on the walls, the antique furnishings. Surely that's a genuine Picasso painting on the pale white and gold wallpaper in the living room. And she would recognize the Jackson Colby painting anywhere.
Moving slowly over to the grand piano, she studied the bold splashes of colors that was his trademark. She admired his style and often wished she had half or even a quarter of his talent. Her gaze passed over exquisite object d'arts, sculptures by Jason Colby and several artistically carved spun glass from a very famous glassblower.
Leaving the room, she went into the kitchen and stood there in the arched doorway, staring at the stark black and white room with its modern appliances. Taking a deep breath and stepping inside hesitantly, she managed to make some Lipton soup and defiantly added roast chicken that had been left over. Grabbing a few crackers just in case, she wandered along the long hallway and turned into the library.
The room was large and stretched from floor to lofty ceiling with books of all genres. Curiosity had her walking to the children's section and was surprised to see copies of the books she had illustrated.
"Well." She murmured, plucking a copy from the shelf and staring at it.
Putting it back into the slot, she wandered the cozy room. Selecting a paperback novel, she went to curl up on the sofa and prepared to spend the time reading. Before she realized it, she had finished the soup and was praying that it would settle. Dragging the soft woolen blanket, over her feet, she settled back to enjoy the novel.
Conail was furious and had contemplated several times on the way here to just ignore his mother's request. No dammit, it had been more of a demand than anything else. And she had tried to make him feel guilty. He had specifically told her he wanted nothing to do with the matter. And she had told him she understood.
Now he was being roped in to what? Babysit the woman carrying his baby? For what purpose?
And why the hell had she sent away her staff? He knew it was a tradition that his own dad had started when he was growing up, but why the hell hadn't she made an exception. He had not agreed to her having the woman staying with her in the first place and she had gone ahead and did it anyway.
Gritting his teeth, he drove into the driveway and killed the engine. He would check on her and be on his way, he decided. Then his mother could not accuse him of not doing his bloody part.
Pushing the door open, he stepped out into the cold and dragged his jacket closer to ward off the chill. Great, the snow which was supposed to have been flurries had now turned into fat flakes that were sticking to everything.
Tamping down the fury, he hurried up the steps and engaged the code to open the door. The place was silent, and he prayed the woman was fast asleep. He was striding towards the staircase when he heard what sounded like someone choking. And it was coming from the powder room next to the library.
Slowing his steps, he changed direction and made his way towards the sound. The door was open and the sight that met hiseyes had him rooted to the floor. She was on the floor, her head inside the bowl and retching as if her stomach lining was being ejected.
Swearing viciously, he strode into the room and just stood there for a few seconds and waited for the nausea to pass. He doubted she had heard his approach with the amount of noise she had been making. His frown deepened when he realized that she was not getting up. Instead, she crawled until her back was against the wall. She had her eyes closed for a minute and when she opened them and saw him standing there, she blinked as if she was wondering if he was an apparition.
"What--" Lifting a hand to rub her mouth, she stared at him in shock. "What are you doing here?"
"Mother asked me to check on you." Hunkering down, he gazed at her. "And I suspect we should call the doctor."
"No." She shook her head. "Give me a hand, will you?"
He hesitated briefly before taking her hand and helping her up. He held on while she flushed.
"Now you can go."
"Not going to happen. What the hell are you doing downstairs?" He walked behind her as she went to the sink to rinse out her mouth.
