“They wouldn’t let me in, Parasol. At least not with my mansion I so love. And I *wasn’t* coming here without it, dammit.” He paused, wiped his mouth. “April Mae said ‘come, come, come’. The house meant less to her than the neighborhood, the land. And now we are split, Parasol. She with her version of you and me with mine.”
In her strangely compressing Victorian chair, Parasol said nothing, soaking it all in. She’d like to talk to the woman involved before making a final decision, but it would be difficult to pull her here through the density. Monsieur Gold can only stay for short spells, and that is only because he is closer to the border. It would be logical to choose him — the easy way out. Granddaughter Tessa saw it coming, after all. Gold to Platinum.
“Walk with me,” she said. They often walked during visits. Monsieur Gold came prepared with an extra layer of insulated underwear this time.