There is only one of two ways I get Hardin. Only after the descendant of the current heir reaches a certain age or the current successor in the family dies.
Death, expected or unexpected, the only way for an early request of transfer to be made even if the next heir is not yet of the correct age.
The clauses are the same for both Finn and me. Ensuring our families’ shared values continue to stay equal at Hardin.
Since Silas doesn’t seem to plan on croaking anytime soon looks like I’ll have to be patient. Something I seemed to have to be doing a lot lately.
“Here, make yourself useful,” he clips, setting down more statements. “You’ve already wasted enough of my time gossiping.”
I take my seat again. Biting my tongue until I taste blood to keep myself from spitting out the truth.
You mean, like Mom made herself useful to you when you hit her?
Her memory is like a ghost in our home. In the end, my mother valued her freedom from my abusive father more than her own will to live.
The air polluted inside those walls long before her death.
Rory stirs, mumbling something incoherent. Her nose pinches, deep in her dream as she continues to sleep. Her mind lost to her imagination.
I swipe a long piece of loose blonde hair that tickles from her cheek to her nose, tucking it behind her ear. The creases that were there smooth out with my touch. Softening her beautiful features once more.
I wonder if she allows her subconscious to dream of me as mine does with her.
Yesterday was the first in what felt like months where I got more than a few hours. I was on her floor, but I found myself drifting easily into a full night’s rest.
I convinced myself that’s why I’d come back again tonight.
A dusting of something creeps along my neck. The bite stings past the thin cotton of my shirt. The whistling breeze from the small crack in the glass structure the culprit.
The conservatory chillier in the midnight air. The warmth from the sun that usually dances off the glass paused for a few more hours.
Rory had never been one to make the chase easy.
I reach over, grabbing at the blanket and stretch it across her balled-up form. Her body eases into the comfort of the soft fabric with a sigh.
I walk over to my mother’s flower. Plucking at one of the pinkish-red buds that carries the same name as her own.
Rory has been doing a great job cleaning up in here. The plants all look healthy and more alive with the added attention.
Before, the flowers bloomed wherever, now, they have designated paths. Order once again restored. The previously loose roots at your feet or overhanging vines have a sense of direction.
Everything is meticulously trimmed and groomed. The haze of colors, once a maze, now restored to order. The change nice.Needed.
The room is almost perfect. Everything else is in running order except one item. The fountain. She’s cleaned it. The green mildew around the base is now a polished white stone again, but it’s the one thing in here not in working order.
It’s not only the focal point of the room but doubles as an irrigation system for the thriving ecosystem. If it’s not running, then that must mean Rory’s been watering everything by hand.
That’s unacceptable.
thirty-six
Rory
Then…
Wespenttheentireday doing fun things. Everything Lillian suggested for my birthday we did.
My nails are now a pretty pastel pink. My hair styled and tucked back, same as hers. Even our dresses are similar in their flowy construction.