After a short nap, Estela warily left her room at around 7 o'clock. As she walked by the dining room, she could make out muffled conversations coming from what she thought to be the kitchen. But as she reached the living room, it was deserted, and she realized she had stopped breathing in preparation for meeting Michael face-to-face, so she took a long breath to fill her lungs. This won't do, she informed herself with a chiding grimness. She can't give off any vibes of nervousness with Michael right from the bat. She aimed to portray an image of confidence and competence. For her goals to materialize, Michael needed to have faith in her competence as a professional. She drew nearer to the fire, appreciating the coziness and closeness it brought. While browsing the mantel, she saw there were no writing-related memories displayed, which made her a little bit irritated. Nothing suggests that Michael was a famous author who felt compelled to advertise his status. Instead, there were beau
Estel gave a knowing glance and a tiny smile as she acknowledged the reality of that assertion. "No doubt," she murmured wryly. With an eyebrow raised, she said, "He isn't exactly happy about your change of subject matter." She asked, "What is the subject matter?" she inquired suspiciously. Michael's face went expressionless, but he looked at her intently as he said, "It's a psychological study of a woman," he stated quietly. "A woman who buries her potential out of misguided notions of what's really important in life." When Michael said, "You're going to do a study," Estel halted the frantic pacing she'd begun and gazed at him in utter disbelief. An in-depth analysis of a woman's psyche?" she said in disbelief, not realizing the insult in her tone. The hardness and determination in Michael's face brought back memories for Estel of the night he brought her home when he had been so different from the two other times she had seen him. She had almost forgotten how hard he could be and
The following two days were surprisingly more enjoyable for Estel than anticipated, primarily because Michael was nowhere to be seen. The morning following their argument in the study, she came out of her room to discover that he had mysteriously departed town. Even though Shayne had no idea where he had gone, she was unconcerned. "He does that sometimes," she added carelessly. "He's probably off doing research somewhere for the book or another one he has in mind. Since the two of you wouldn't start work for a couple of days, he decided to use the time profitably some other way. He has that look." "That look?" Estel questioned in puzzlement. Shayne chuckled nostalgically and referred to "his working look." "When Michael is in one of his working moods, he goes at it with total concentration. It's the same when he plays. Whatever he does, he does it wholeheartedly." Estel was uneasy by the news, but because she could find no rationale for her anxiety, she decided to put it out of her
She looked at Michael's dad and realized she felt the same way about him for different reasons. The man had the faraway, concerned countenance that indicated a typical absentminded professor. In fact, he made her think about... Estel almost tossed the image on the desk as her mind erupted. Her chest was heaving, and her eyes were wide with shock. She couldn't help but think about Peter when she saw Michael's dad. Peter is exposed to the egocentric, narrow-minded person he really is without her affection. Alarmed and surprised by the thoughts that had seized control of her, Estel wrapped her arms about herself to ward off the unexpected chill. She had no reason to feel that way about Peter. She appeared to be wondering urgently. Hadn't he been the most excellent thing that had happened to her? Didn't she spend her whole life admiring and loving this great, compassionate genius? Distracted, she left her desk and began to walk about the room. She couldn't get the sentence given her wh
Michael said nonchalantly, "I want your opinion of a scene I just recorded today," as he took his iPhone from his pocket. He then gave it to her. Then he said, "Turn it down low. I know what I've said, and I'll be able to hear enough to recall it. I'd rather see its effect on you to tell if I've got what I was striving for." He smiled languidly, his eyes warm with amusement and something Estel couldn't quite put her finger on. He hesitated, adding in silence, "Verbally," but it was clear what he meant: "Besides, the nature of the scene is such that you might rather not share it with me." Estel shrugged, surprised by his remarks but naïve of what was to come. Michael lay on the couch, one arm behind his head and the other resting on his thigh, while he watched her with half-closed eyes. Estel focused on the iPhone in her hands; she heard Michael dictating in a seductively quiet voice. It was the same tone he'd used when he made love to her, and it brought back memories. An Indian man
Estel joined Michael for breakfast in his study the following day, her demeanor calm and professional despite the barriers she had built the night before to protect herself from him. She was adamant that he would never again be able to breach her walls, and her aloofness toward him was designed to serve as a stipulation for their future interactions. When she realized that Michael's attitude was similar to hers, she felt uneasy about it. There were no warm, lazy, amused stares now, no teasing familiarity, nothing but harsh professionalism and attention on the job that left her feeling strangely empty and a bit despondent. "Here's the first chapter," Michael remarked, setting the pages on a small table he had apparently brought in after she'd left his presence the night before. "And a red pencil," he added in a distant, dry tone, indicating that he fully expected her to use it extensively. "I'll be at the typewriter working on the next one if you have any questions." Did Michael only
Shayne put on an act of shock. She said, "Michael?" in utter disbelief. She assumed a contemplative glare and said, "Why, Michael has never been in love that I can recall," adding later, "Of course, he hasn't been a monk either." Since this depiction of Michael aligned with how she perceived the man, Estel replied with delight. She said, "Ha!" with triumph. "My guess is that he hasn't! Based on his past, I am unsure if a monastery would even let him come inside for a visit!" With a furious cluck of outrage, Shayne tossed her golden head. She said, "Oh, Estel," in defense of her boss and friend. "You don't honestly believe all that garbage about Michael, do you? You, of all people, ought to know it was just made up to sell books!" Estel did not buy it. She laughed and said, "All of it?" "You've just said that he hasn't been a monk." Although Estel had not yet indicated an interest in coffee, Shayne shrugged and went to the counter to retrieve cups and saucers. "Of course he hasn't,"
Michael Jensen initiated yet another shift in Estel's demeanor at this point. Mandy was a helpful companion for Estel on her quest for entertainment, even if the younger girl looked perplexed by Estel's constant need to occupy her time when she wasn't doing Michael's bidding. She has started to take on a regular rhythm. Skiing in the mornings, Estel slowly improved her skiing abilities. She had lunch and a brief break, was carried by Mandy to whatever activity her companions had invented for the afternoon, returned home for dinner, and so on. Michael had the evenings to himself, and after dinner each day, Estel would join him in the study for what was meant to be a review of his day's writing. Estel had discovered her own way of managing this specific thorn in her side as well, however. Typically, she would take the pages Michael had completed that day to her room before dinner, read them the few times she had to get ready, and then make nice sounds when he discussed his job with he