Enid Sinclair Wednesday Novels & Stories

"The Wednesday for correspondence." "Yes," Don said. "The bread Wednesday is for things of the immediate and domestic. The other Wednesday is for the outward-facing." This was a distinction that had emerged organically across the years, not as a rule but as a pattern that had become reliable enough to function as one. The bread Wednesdays — the Wednesdays when Ernest made the bread — were for the inward things: the household accounts, the correspondence with people who were part of the immediate circle, the planning of the week ahead. The other Wednesdays — the bread had been made on Tuesday that week, because of a scheduling adjustment — were for the outward-facing: the publisher, the edito

“Sinclair Capital, this is Lena. How may I direct your call?” I cleared my throat. “Hi. This is Jasmine Reed. I received a card from Noah Sinclair. It said we should meet. I am calling to… see if that is still possible.” Lena’s tone stayed smooth and efficient. “Miss Reed. Mr. Sinclair mentioned you might reach out. Let me check his schedule. He has availability on Thursday afternoon at three. Does that work for you?” I gripped the edge of the table. Thursday. Four days from now. My mind raced through excuses. Work on new sketches. Follow up on job applications. Anything to delay. “Thursday at three. Yes. That works.”

He ordered. I don’t know who died and made him the boss of me? What gave him the right to order me around? It made me furious, but again, I shouldn’t be surprised. Cain Cadell was known to treat witches like servants, and when they didn’t do his beddings, he killed them. Usually, in the most gruesome ways ever. I just want this night to be over with. I thought to myself, then said, “Just bring a shovel.” He gave me a Cheshire grin and nodded his head. The car ride was engulfed in a tense silence. He gave me a side glance, as we neared the cemetery, “How long have you lived in Midwick?” He asked out of the blue.

Friday was one of the best days in Edwin and Co. Everyone knew it was the start of the weekend and even though there was nothing much to do during the weekend besides sports on Saturday morning, free time in the evenings, and church on Sunday morning every student of Edwin and Co. still looked forward to the weekend. I for one had a good reason to look forward to the weekend this time around because Annabel invited me to the seniors' quarters for their weekly party. I already invited Charlie to come with me as my moral support and because she begged my ears until I had to ask Annabel to let me invite her. I already had my party clothes ready! The thigh-length sweater I had gotten from Helen

But my foot halts as Enid walks towards me from the opposite direction, a wide smile sliding to the corner of her lips. She's changed into her outfit for the night and I must admit, it looks incredible and perfect for a Luna. It is a deep crimson gown with intricate silver stitching along the collar, hugging her perfectly and making her look healthy, vibrant, and completely ready to step into the spotlight. The pale, sickly look she had at the hospital is completely gone, replaced by a glowing, triumphant expression.

She dropped the glass of whiskey on the small table close to Lincoln before she turned to walk to her seat. She wiggled her butt left and right as she walked to have Lincoln distracted. Lincoln's gaze was on her back as she walked with her intentionally waving her butt. His face was calm as he stared at her as if he was watching a horror movie. Romansata took a seat and smiled at him "So what brought you over to my place?" "Where's Wednesday?" Lincoln asked shortly. "Oh I forgot to tell you that Information, My mom traveled to the country a few days ago and took Wednesday for a treatment seminar back home and I couldn't accompany them, you know I'm so lazy these days, she'll return Wednesday

When he walks me to my door we stand there a moment longer than necessary, the way we always do now, and he says goodnight in a voice that means considerably more than that and I go inside and lean against the closed door and think about sweetheart and nearly home and the way he said both like they were things he’d been carrying for a while. I fall asleep still thinking about it. ----- Wednesday is ordinary. That’s the thing. It’s just a normal Wednesday. No gala. No appearance. No Victor schedule. Adrian texts in the morning about a Knight Corporation thing he needs my opinion on, which has become normal somehow,

The Wednesdays were just two people, sitting across from each other, figuring out who they were when the frame was removed. He was learning about Noah. Not the professional Noah, whom he had known thoroughly for five months, but the Noah who got to the cafe early and ordered the same thing every week and drove out of his way and had a laugh that arrived before he could stop it. Who read a great deal and had strong opinions about books he had recommended and was gratifyingly willing to argue about them. Who called his sister on Friday evenings and described it as a standing appointment, the same word he used for the Wednesdays, which Ethan noted and did not comment on. Who had been alone on t

My phone chirps, and I see a message from Sinclair. Stop bothering me – I found better company for the night. Then, immediately following the text, a photo appears. Sinclair is naked in a strange bed, his eyelids heavy over a sultry stare, his clothes from this evening slung over a nightstand. And there beside him, naked as the day she was born – is Lydia. _____________________

“Because of her?” He didn’t answer. Vivienne took another sip and hummed thoughtfully. “Sinclair, was it? Nora Sinclair?” Adrian’s jaw twitched. “Don’t.” “Relax. I’m not here to cause trouble,” she said, voice laced with false innocence. “It’s just… the name sounds familiar.” He stiffened. “What do you mean?” “I’m sure it’s nothing. But I remember the name Sinclair from one of your father’s briefings. Small, family-owned company. Struggling financially. I think Victor called it ‘ripe for absorption.’”