Leesa's Advent
Breathe, Emma, just breathe.
“Ms. Livingston? That name is so familiar to me. I meet so many people; I bet I’ve heard your name at a prayer service somewhere. Please, your urgent matter should be shared sitting down in my tent. Come and we’ll talk,” Namirha coaxed politely. If he knew who she was, he didn’t let on. But Emma wasn’t foolish enough not to suspect he’d known exactly who she was.
He offered her a chair and his robed helper eased him into a chair at his desk. He dismissed him and turned his attention to her. “So, let’s hear about this urgent matter, Ms. Livingston. I must say you’ve got me intrigued.”
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