| Subject: Chapter 31 (David is the front desk helper, remember) |
Author:
Kate
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Date Posted: 09:42:33 04/03/01 Tue
In reply to:
Kate
's message, "Things My Mother Taught Me" on 09:29:32 04/03/01 Tue
*******************
Blood is thicker than water.
But Milla didn't come back. She wasn't there to see Sam off to Egypt with his cargo of medical equipment; she wasn't there to see Nikita and Michael help Sara feel more at home in her patio-level guest room; she wasn't there to hold her mother's hand while Nikita went through test after test after test in preparation for her transplant.
She also wasn't there to witness any of the dinnertime conversations, which, since Andy was at the Lucia, tended to be macabre.
She wasn't there when David got a second letter from his mother, this one more definite than the first.
"What's that?" Nikita nodded to the large vellum envelope that David held gingerly in his hands. The handwriting on it was lavender and a strong scent wafted through the air.
David tried to hide the envelope under a pile of junk mail. "It's nothing. Really."
"It looks like an invitation," Nikita observed. "Is a friend getting married?"
"Uh ... not exactly."
Nikita smiled. "You're beginning to sound like Andy."
Giving up, David pulled the envelope out and opened it up. He handed it to her and waited.
Nikita read it silently, carefully holding the card far enough away so she wouldn't sneeze. "Colefield. A relative?"
"My mother."
"Really? She's getting married! That's great! How much time do you want off?" Nikita smiled brightly and turned her attention to the calendar. "How lucky she's getting married in Canne! That's so much closer than the States."
Unable to argue with geography, David was silent.
"You want a couple of days? A week? Just let me know. It's tourist season but we can get someone else to fill in for you. Your mother doesn't get married every day of the week."
"Mine does."
Nikita blinked and looked at David. "Surely you exaggerate."
David shook his head. "This is her ninth. Really, it'd be no big deal if I missed it."
"I don't know," Nikita said, her eyes going back to the invitation. "‘The Right Honorable ...' Sounds important."
"I'd really rather skip it."
"Well, it's up to you. If you change your mind, let me know. I'd like a little warning so I can get someone from the agency. With everything that's going on around here ..." She sighed and rubbed her forehead, eyes straying to the pile of mail.
"Nothing from Milla," David said.
"Oh. Well. All right, then." Nikita turned to go, and David cleared his throat.
"Thanks, Mrs. Samuelle. For the vacation offer, I mean."
"Don't mention it," she smiled at him. "But really ... if you don't take time off now, do consider taking a week or so sometime. Everyone needs to get away sometime." A shadow passed over her face, and she hurried toward the laundry room. But they both knew what she was thinking: Milla.
David frowned. From all indications, Sara Sanderson was going to go into labor at any minute. She'd been here five weeks and was as big as a house. Her husband planned to come back to Sorrento in a couple of days. David hoped he would make the birth: from what he understood of pregnant women, they were very demanding of their spouses.
Everyone needs to get away sometime.
David's frown deepened. Maybe it was the invitation from his own mother, but he felt his temper fraying. Five weeks was a long enough vacation for Milla, David decided. She was just being stubborn.
"Dulcie?" David called. "Can you come mind the front desk? I've got to take the afternoon off. Something's come up."
*******************
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