Page 21 of Escape Clause

“Some of the drifters I saw yesterday on the street looked scary. Aimless.”

“They are…shell-shocked, grieving.” The despair etched on so many faces tore at him. That was the price of love. Pain. Fortunately, he’d been spared that experience. “They have lost wives, mothers, sisters, daughters. The others don’t know if their ailing loved ones will survive. Every single person alive has been touched by this tragedy.” The entire population existed in a state of mourning.

“I didn’t think of that.” She scrutinized the men they passed. “I see that now. It’s tragic.”

At the market entrance, a large booth displayed vibrant, showy blooms from all over the planet, from the most common variety to the rarest and most exotic. Hope wouldn’t know, of course, but the booth was a fraction of its former size. Many flower vendors had gone out of business altogether. Women were the primary drivers of flower sales, either as purchasers or recipients. With so many women gone or in stasis, flower sales had plummeted.

This one had managed to hang on due, in large part, to the lower overhead of the cozi.

“Good afternoon, Governor-General,” the vendor greeted him. Besides his public position, Krogan was a regular customer, buying flowers every week for the penthouse lobby. “What can I help you with today?”

“We would like some flowers in an arrangement small enough that it can be carried by hand.”

The vendor nodded. “There’s been a small surge in requests for those since yesterday.” He sounded perplexed.

“We are getting married this afternoon,” he said with a surge of pride.

“It’s traditional for human brides to carry flowers when they get married,” she explained.

“Congratulations to you! Let me show you what we have,” the vendor said.

He pointed out some of the rarer flowers, but she chose three common varieties in pale blue. “You can get those anywhere,” Krogan said. “Wouldn’t you prefer something more exotic?”

“They’re all exotic to me,” she replied.

The vendor mixed in some white field flowers and tied a ribbon around the stems.

“Perfect,” she exclaimed. “Do we have time to stop at the bakery booth?” she asked after he’d paid the flower vendor. She clutched the bouquet in her left hand.

“You wish to buy baked goods now?”

“Larth would enjoy meeting you. He’s the man who brought me home last night.”

They still had thirty minutes before the appointed time, and it would only take seconds to vap. He recalled the uncomfortable burning in his gut when the baker had brought her home. He hadn’t realized until later the feeling had been jealousy. Overwhelmed by the slew of emotions—relief, residual fear, jealousy, and anger—he’d snapped at her and made her cry.

He owed the baker a debt of gratitude for his assistance, but animosity lingered. Larth had helped Hope; Krogan had failed her. “All right,” he agreed reluctantly.

“Hope Bennett! Governor-General!” The aproned man recognized him at once and bounded out of the bakery booth “It’s an honor to meet you.”

“I wish to thank you for assisting my wife yesterday,” he said in a stilted voice.

“It was my pleasure. Anyone else would have done the same.”

Not true. Hope had relayed how others had given her terse, cursory answers. They hadn’t done what Larth had—taken the time and effort to personally vap her home.

“I would hope that if my wife needed help, she could rely on any Caradonian for assistance,” Larth said.

“I’m sorry about your wife.” He recalled Hope had said the baker’s wife was in stasis.

“It is better than the alternative. You gave her a fighting chance. If you hadn’t secured the pods, she would have died.” He swept his arm out to encompass his booth. “If not for the cozi, we wouldn’t have the bakery.Shewouldn’t have the bakery. This was her idea, her dream. We owe you so much, Governor-General. I can’t thank you enough.”

How could he still dislike someone effusive in his gratitude, who’d gone out of his way to help Hope, whose own wife was ailing, and who was, by word and deed, a genuinely kind man? It didn’t make sense.

Fortunately, the schooled politician in him enabled him to formulate a suitable response. “I wish I could do more for everyone. I am trying.” He omitted mention of the treatment trials to avoid raising false hopes. The first iteration had failed. “Anyway, thank you again for assisting Hope. I’m afraid we must be off. We can’t be late for our own wedding.”

“Goodness, no! Congratulations.”

Around them, conversation buzzed as vendors and customers recognized him. Normally, he would stop and speak to them all, but not today. They’d never getout on time. Grabbing her arm, he rushed her out of the market.

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