Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 288(@200wpm)___ 230(@250wpm)___ 192(@300wpm)
Laura is watching her now, wide, perceptive blue eyes taking in everything about Jane. Jane is being observed deeply, and she can feel it. Every expression, every little flicker of brow or lip is being noted with interest. She looks back, seeing a woman in her prime. It would be easy to dismiss Laura as masculine, but there is an elegance to her bone structure, a powerful femininity that does not apologize for itself. Her thick blonde hair is tied up behind her head, a few light flecks of gray blending with blonde in an effortless way. Jane finds herself wondering what it might look like down. Laura’s features are generous, strong, and warm, and seem to become moreso the longer Jane looks at her.
“Frau Lotte does not agree. Hannes has become a laughingstock and retreated to Zurich to recuperate. I have been instructed to ensure there are no such further incidents to bring shame upon the school.”
Jane feels a prickling of pride. She knows very well that there should never have been an incident, let alone two of them on two consecutive days. There is something about the brusque, Germanic way Laura made those comments that is quite challenging not to rise to. Jane finds her own speech becoming short, practically clipped.
“In future, if you would like to take her anywhere, please let me know first.”
Laura puts a hand on the door frame casually, as if she is unaware that this position makes her cast a twilight shadow over Jane. Her gaze sweeps up and down Jane’s perfectly poised frame before she speaks. When she does, her voice is just a fraction lower with something like warning.
“I do not report to you, Miss Strict. Do not speak to me like one of your students.”
Jane might say the same in response, but she knows Laura barely says a word to the students. The woman has been enigmatic since she arrived.
“I am fortunate I am not one of your students,” Laura adds. “Your work is impressive.”
“Thank you,” Jane says, relaxing slightly at what seems to be a genuine compliment. “I would still appreciate being consulted before you take Storm anywhere. I worry when she is missing. She has a habit of disappearing.”
Laura’s expression softens slightly. “I understand. She is lucky that you care. Few instructors would go find a runaway student. They would let her be lost or expelled, whichever came first.”
“I’d like to see that not happen, if I can possibly help it.”
Laura nods. “Also…”
“Yes?”
“Frau Lotte is a trustworthy woman. You do not need to defend the girl from her.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Laura lowers her head slightly and looks at Jane under her brows with an expression that says she is not buying that at all. “I think you do. You should enjoy your time here. You are in the most beautiful place in the world. It is the weekend. You should experience Zermatt, go skiing. Enjoy yourself.”
Jane thinks about that for a moment.
Laura tilts her head and allows a rare smile to appear on her lips. “Have dinner with me.”
It’s not really an invitation. It’s an order, though a generous one. Jane’s reflex is to refuse, but there is another part of her that would very much enjoy some company and a nice dinner, and a break from the rigors of the school. It has not been an easy first week.
Laura extends her hand. “Give me the cane. Let the strict go for just a little while. You can pick it up later.”
Jane hesitates for a brief moment. “Storm is waiting for me.”
“I will deal with that.” Laura opens and closes her palm, asking for the cane again wordlessly. She is very forward, and perhaps even overbearing, but there is no malice in her. She seems simply to recognize someone who needs a break, and she is right.
Jane pauses momentarily then capitulates, both to Laura and her own need for respite.
Storm is waiting in Jane’s office as she was told, sitting on the couch and wondering where Jane keeps the cookies when the door opens. She startles, guilty, almost as if she had been stealing baked goods. But it is not Jane standing in the open doorway. It is Frau Lotte.
Her salt and pepper hair is swept into one of those convoluted styles which makes her already severe features look even more severe. Storm has started mentally referring to her as the Terminator because there’s something almost mechanistically determined about her. Something completely unyielding, and perhaps even dangerous.
“Go and gather your books, and bring them to my office,” she says. “You are going to do supervised study with me tonight.”
“I am?”
“You are.”
Storm understands they clearly don’t want her out of their sight, and she supposes she can’t blame them. But she’d also rather spend an evening in a snake pit or with a vengeful robot than with Frau Lotte.