fear.
“Someone!” my voice cracks and my fingers dig into the frayed rope. No one is there, but the rope breaks suddenly, throwing me against the wall with the force of my own movement.
I jump up to run, but then realize…
There’s nowhere to go.
I sit in front of Eleanor’s massive desk, uncomfortably waiting for her to speak. It’s been a full twenty-four hours since I imagined the scene in the crypts. I’ve had time to wrap my mind around the hallucinations, and accept them for what they were: a product of sleeplessness. I’m ignoring the very real fact that my fingers had a distinct scent of roses on them that I couldn’t have imagined.
Now I’m just waiting to hear Eleanor’s expectations from me.
Regardless of what they consider to be my ‘fragile state’, there’s apparently still a small matter of my inheritance to consider.
She stares at me for several moments before she begins, her voice stern and rigid.
“I trust you’ve settled in.”
It’s not a pleasantry, it’s a directive.
I nod in response, as expected.
“Good. We have matters to discuss now, and I require your full attention.”
I feel my spine, ram-rod straight, and I picture the vertebrae, lining up, afraid to slump in Eleanor’s presence. I have to believe that the sun is afraid to shine with her around. She’s that intimidating.
“I realize you aren’t feeling well, and that is to be expected,” Eleanor’s British accent is thick, and I find myself distracted by that, and the fact that my mother lost her own over the years.
“But you have a significant inheritance from your grandfather,” she continues, staring a hole into me. “And you must comply with certain stipulations in order to receive it. Since you are eighteen now, time is getting away from us.”
“What are the stipulations?” I ask politely, and I itch to get out of this room.
Eleanor looks down her nose.
“First, you will attend Cambridge University. Every Savage has attended Cambridge, always. You will live here at Whitley during your University years.”
Pause.
“You will submit to having me on your bank account, in addition to yourself.”
Pause.
“You will work with my PR person to ensure you don’t tarnish the Savage name.”
Pause.
She looks me in the eye. “You will hyphenate your name. From here forward, you will be known as Price-Savage.”
This last one gives me pause, because I know my father won’t like it.
“Does Dare have to hyphenate his name, too?” I ask without thinking. Eleanor looks like she swallowed a lemon, her mouth pinching into a knot.
“Of course not. Adair is not a Savage, and never has been. His inheritance is a pittance compared to yours.”
That doesn’t seem quite fair.
I swallow hard.
“Lastly, and most importantly, you have until you turn nineteen to claim it. You must be of sound mind, Calla.”
You must pull yourself together. That’s what she’s really saying. You must not be crazy.
I stare blankly at her.
“Are these terms agreeable to you?”
Eleanor waits, expecting me to agree, expecting me to make excuses for my frail mind. I don’t. I finally answer with soft words.
“I’ll try.”
Eleanor is unflinching.
“Very well. You may go.”
She looks down at her desk, her attention already on something else.
I let myself out, and when I’m in the hall, I allow Finn to join me.
“She can’t be serious,” he rolls his eyes.
I slump against the wall. “I’m afraid she is. I don’t think she knows how to joke.”
“I’m not changing my name,” Finn tells me stoutly. “I’m a Price.”
“She’s not asking you to change it,” I reply diplomatically. “You’re dead. She’s asking me. But not to change it, only to hyphenate it.”
“Dad will have kittens,” Finn points out, and I know he’s right.
“Probably.”
He chews his lip.
“But maybe. We’ll think on it.”
Like always, he speaks of us as a unit. Because we are, even now, even though
“Someone!” my voice cracks and my fingers dig into the frayed rope. No one is there, but the rope breaks suddenly, throwing me against the wall with the force of my own movement.
I jump up to run, but then realize…
There’s nowhere to go.
I sit in front of Eleanor’s massive desk, uncomfortably waiting for her to speak. It’s been a full twenty-four hours since I imagined the scene in the crypts. I’ve had time to wrap my mind around the hallucinations, and accept them for what they were: a product of sleeplessness. I’m ignoring the very real fact that my fingers had a distinct scent of roses on them that I couldn’t have imagined.
Now I’m just waiting to hear Eleanor’s expectations from me.
Regardless of what they consider to be my ‘fragile state’, there’s apparently still a small matter of my inheritance to consider.
She stares at me for several moments before she begins, her voice stern and rigid.
“I trust you’ve settled in.”
It’s not a pleasantry, it’s a directive.
I nod in response, as expected.
“Good. We have matters to discuss now, and I require your full attention.”
I feel my spine, ram-rod straight, and I picture the vertebrae, lining up, afraid to slump in Eleanor’s presence. I have to believe that the sun is afraid to shine with her around. She’s that intimidating.
“I realize you aren’t feeling well, and that is to be expected,” Eleanor’s British accent is thick, and I find myself distracted by that, and the fact that my mother lost her own over the years.
“But you have a significant inheritance from your grandfather,” she continues, staring a hole into me. “And you must comply with certain stipulations in order to receive it. Since you are eighteen now, time is getting away from us.”
“What are the stipulations?” I ask politely, and I itch to get out of this room.
Eleanor looks down her nose.
“First, you will attend Cambridge University. Every Savage has attended Cambridge, always. You will live here at Whitley during your University years.”
Pause.
“You will submit to having me on your bank account, in addition to yourself.”
Pause.
“You will work with my PR person to ensure you don’t tarnish the Savage name.”
Pause.
She looks me in the eye. “You will hyphenate your name. From here forward, you will be known as Price-Savage.”
This last one gives me pause, because I know my father won’t like it.
“Does Dare have to hyphenate his name, too?” I ask without thinking. Eleanor looks like she swallowed a lemon, her mouth pinching into a knot.
“Of course not. Adair is not a Savage, and never has been. His inheritance is a pittance compared to yours.”
That doesn’t seem quite fair.
I swallow hard.
“Lastly, and most importantly, you have until you turn nineteen to claim it. You must be of sound mind, Calla.”
You must pull yourself together. That’s what she’s really saying. You must not be crazy.
I stare blankly at her.
“Are these terms agreeable to you?”
Eleanor waits, expecting me to agree, expecting me to make excuses for my frail mind. I don’t. I finally answer with soft words.
“I’ll try.”
Eleanor is unflinching.
“Very well. You may go.”
She looks down at her desk, her attention already on something else.
I let myself out, and when I’m in the hall, I allow Finn to join me.
“She can’t be serious,” he rolls his eyes.
I slump against the wall. “I’m afraid she is. I don’t think she knows how to joke.”
“I’m not changing my name,” Finn tells me stoutly. “I’m a Price.”
“She’s not asking you to change it,” I reply diplomatically. “You’re dead. She’s asking me. But not to change it, only to hyphenate it.”
“Dad will have kittens,” Finn points out, and I know he’s right.
“Probably.”
He chews his lip.
“But maybe. We’ll think on it.”
Like always, he speaks of us as a unit. Because we are, even now, even though
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