Chapter Twenty

After helping her mother off the table, Chantal stepped back as her mom gingerly stretched her arm.

“How does it feel?”

“Good. Better. You’re a miracle worker; you have the magic touch.”

“It’s a learned skill and nothing to do with miracles.” Chantal folded a towel as her mother slipped a cardigan over her vest and walked to the sofa in the bedroom corner.

“It’s late. Join me for a drink.”

“I’m tired—it’s been a long day gathering remaining supplies for the symposium.” Chantal suppressed a yawn.

Shrugging, the ambassador uncorked the brandy decanter and poured out a splash of golden liquid. Chantal took in a slow breath, gathering courage.

“I mean it when I say that anyone else could step into my shoes.”

“You’re my daughter and have my best interests at heart. You’ll continue with my therapy.” Conn