Sublime

Helene Wright was an impressive woman, at least in Medallion she was. Heavy hair in a bun, dark eyes arched in a perpetual query about other people’s manners. A woman who won all social battles with presence and a conviction of the legitimacy of her authority.

One hour in Garrett Gibson’s company, and then he would never approach her again. But he wanted, needed, craved those minutes alone with her. He would hoard the memory for the rest of his days.

Helen extended the thermometer to West. “Under your tongue, please,” she said gravely. He complied with a long-suffering expression.

“From now on,” Helen told Dr. Gibson, “I will send for you whenever I need a doctor”—she paused and gestured to the curved-handle walking stick hooked over the edge of the counter—“or a bodyguard.”