Chapter 9 is posting early because I won't be near a computer on Wednseday. Enjoy. v
Chapter 9
“I suppose we did miss dinner last night,” he said. “My apologies at the oversight.” Elena looked around the dining room. A central table was laid with snowy linens and sparkling crystal. Around the sides were various stations where one could have waffles or an omelet prepared by the person manning that station. Remembering her favorite Sunday morning weakness, her grandfather led her directly to the waffle station. “They have strawberries,” he said. Elena smiled.
“Of course they do,” She replied. “You can’t have a waffle with out strawberries.” Alexandro left her to have her waffle made. By the time the chef handed her a warm plate, Alexandro had returned with his own plate. Elena looked at his dish.
“I guess they had mushrooms,” she commented, looking down at his omelet.
“Of course,” he replied. “You can have an omelet without mushrooms. It would be uncivilized.” They made their way to the table and took their seats. Other Council members loaded their plates and did likewise. A starched and pressed waiter appeared to Elena’s left.
“Would you care for a beverage madam?” He asked.
“Coffee would be nice,” she replied.
“Regular or decaf madam?” he asked.
“Regular,” she said. She waited for the other questions usually accompanying a coffee order, but they never came. Instead a simple cup of black coffee was placed beside her plate. The others around the table were not asked for their preference, drinks were simply placed in front of them by the efficient staff.
“It’s because you are new,” Peter said taking the seat across from her.
“Oh?” she asked.
“Yes, most of us dine here often enough that our tastes are known.”
“I see,” she said. “So you travel aboard the Lorenzo often?” She asked, as she cut a small bite from her waffle and raised it to her lips. The strawberries smelled sweet and fresh, complementing the warm waffle. The melted butter filled the square holes and completed it. She took a bite smiling at the taste. It brought back images of lazy Sunday’s spent with her grandfather.
Waffles were the only thing he was ever able to cook with out risking a fire. Personally, she always thought this was due more to the built in timer than his skill with a griddle. Sunday, was also the day Marcus and Carla took off. Carla was the cook and general housekeeper at Alexandro’s house. Elena could still see the faint lines of worry that would crease her forehead as she left on Saturday evening. Leaving a reckless child and a crazy old man alone to wreak havoc on the orderly house she left behind never set well with her. Thinking back on all the damage they wrought over the years when it was just she and her grandfather, Elena found herself sympathizing with Carla’s assessment.
“The Lorenzo is the primary gathering vessel for the Council and we have had to meet a bit more often as of late.” Peter answered.
“Is it?” She responded, pulling her mind from her memories.
“You didn’t know?” he asked.
“Therese was always the one who paid more attention to politics,” She said. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the muscles tighten in her grandfather’s jaw. Her lack of political interest had always been a sore point between them. “I’m just a pilot.” Her grandfather sighed and asked a question of John Havers who was seated on his other side.
Elena took a deep breath and let it go. Sore points were a matter of private family discussion. She turned her attention back to Peter. She noticed his eyes slide between her and Alexandro and realized he had not missed the exchange. Luckily he was too polite to mention it.
“Hardly just a pilot, I would say.” Peter commented. He broke his scone in half and picked up a knife. “Many pilots are still trying to break a few of your records.” He spread clotted cream on his scone. Elena smiled, a bit uncomfortable with the implied praise. She hadn’t set out to break any records, at least not intentionally. A matter which usually raised Alexandro’s pride and Therese’s ire.
“I believe I’ve met your cousin Therese.” Peter continued. “She favors you in coloring a bit although I remember her being a little taller.”
“Yes she is a good three or four inches taller than I.” Elena said. In truth Therese was exactly three and one quarter’s inch taller than Elena, a fact Therese made certain Elena knew.
“And her hair is longer.”
“It would be hard not to be,” Elena commented with a smile, running her hand through her hair. Most pilot’s either kept their hair long so that it could be tied back and out of the way while ship board or cut it nearly as short as the men’s hair. Elena’s chin length bob was quite an anomaly among the pilots.
“I saw her last month at Danvers.” He said. Elena nodded and smiled.
“That makes sense. It quickly became her favorite haunts once she was old enough to get in the door.” Long before Elena was born a man named Michael Danvers had established a bar of sorts at the docking facility where people could come and talk council politics, possibly even snagging the ear of a council member or two for a few minutes. Michael Danvers had long since turned to dust, his grave lost and forgotten but the bar he established still played an essential part in the unofficial daily business of the Guild. Absently Elena wondered if any of her accomplishments would be remembered in such a way.
“Have you ever been there?”
“Once,” Elena answered. “It wasn’t really to my taste.” On her right she heard her grandfather’s snort of laughter and knew he was monitoring her conversation with Peter. She frowned in his general direction but couldn’t fault his derision for her massive understatement. Her first trip to Danvers had ended in what could politely be termed a brawl. As Therese later pointed out, the first ever brawl Danvers had ever seen, earning Elena yet another record breaking feat. Elena disliked fighting and regretted the embarrassment it caused her family but could not find remorse in her for breaking Troy Anderson’s nose.
“I see,” Peter said. Idly she wondered if he did or if he would find a way to ferret the old story into the light. To her relief, he let the topic of politics drop. “Alexandro tells me you have built quite an impressive enterprise in the years you have been gone.”
“Calabrese Imports,” her grandfather said, giving up all pretense of ignoring the conversation. “It is magnificent.”
“Thank you,” Elena said. “I don’t know that I would refer to it as an impressive enterprise but I am quite proud of it.” Elena’s empty plate was whisked away and her coffee cup refilled. She took a deep sip of the fresh coffee, unsure what else to say about her business. She knew Peter would just as easily see the links for his business as her grandfather had and the thought made her uncomfortable. Thinking about working with her grandfather was one thing. She knew and trusted him. He may be Council but she tried very hard not to delve too deeply into those details of his life.
Peter was a different matter. The stories involving him were always dark and usually frightening. ‘Would I find those same stories about grandfather if I looked?’ she wondered silently. ‘Perhaps,’ she was forced to admit. ‘Which may be why I don’t look to hard at the politics.’
“From what I have heard you are being quite modest,” he said. Elena raised an eyebrow.
“Stories from who?” She asked. “Grandfather first saw my place when he came to pick me up and he hasn’t had time to relate what he saw as we went straight into the council chambers.” Elena narrowed her eyes and cut them towards her grandfather. He once again appeared to be deep in conversation with John Havers. John had a slightly bemused look on his face. Elena looked back at Peter and saw the tips of his ears had reddened.
“Yes, well I believe my brother Nickolas was passing through your fair city a while ago and stopped to take a look. His description was quite favorable. Perhaps there will be time for me to have a look inside while we are taking care of this situation.”
“Perhaps,” Elena said allowing the subject to drop. After all nothing more needed to be said. Nick was his brother’s right hand man and as her home was far removed from the normal course of Guild business, Peter would have had to send Nick specifically to see what she was up to. While a part of her understood the suspicion, the fact she was spied upon rankled. At the other end of the table Siobhan stood and walked over to them.
“Elena,” she began. “Riko and I are retiring to the library. Would you care to join us or would you prefer to see if Peter has another foot he would like to try swallowing?” Elena smiled and realized the question was more rhetorical than anything else. Her presence was requested and required. She stood up.
“I would be delighted, thank you. Mr. Baranov should finish his scone before trying another foot.” Elena turned towards the table. “If you gentlemen would excuse me, Mr. Baranov. Grandfather.” Elena stepped away from the table, following Siobhan out of the dining area and into the corridor.
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