“Good morning.”“Hungry?” asked Mom.“Uh, not really.”“Not even for Belgian waffles?” she asked brightly.Suddenly I felt my stomach grow... silently and my mouth started to water. My Mom makes just the best Belgian waffles, light and fluffy and about an inch or two thick. “Well, okay, maybe one.” I sank onto a kitchen chair.My father was silent as he first poured me a large glass of orange juice, which I drained in seconds, then a cup of coffee, which went down almost as fast. He almost looked like. His body looked tired. His eyes, too, as he turned to her."Evening," he said, removing his helmet. A gust of wind sent his long blond hair off to his left, joining the fluttering wings. He reached a gloved hand up to clear strands from his face. "Sorry I'm late." Trouble?" She stood before him, a hand unconsciously going to his arm. He shook his head, sending more strands across his face. She resisted reaching up to clear them herself."Don't know. His Grace decided to go out and about today,. They loved her. In addition to her standard nursing training she was also a qualified child psychologist and a very good one at that. There was nothing namby-pamby or politically correct about her but she listened sympathetically and the children listened to her and responded. The Winstons trusted her judgement implicitly.She was a widow and childless. Her husband had died of a heart attack at the age of forty-five. To her great sadness she had been the one who was infertile. She had been alone. "Since you're dressed, would you run down to the kitchen and get me a bottle of water?"She stared at him questioningly for a second."This isn't a trap or a trick, is it?"Dave smiled. "No, it's not a trap or a trick, Molly. I've been sitting here reading for almost two hours without a drink. I'm thirsty. And I'd imagine we're both going to need a drink before the night's out. Don't you?"Molly looked at him, long and hard for another moment, then nodded. She crept back out of the room, leaving.
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