Page 142 of Beyond the Cottage

She touched Ansel’s knee and nodded at him. Clearing his throat, he set his case on the desk. He unpacked the repellent and a small pouch of germina powder.

He turned to her. “I didn’t bring a plant.”

Gretta held up a finger and dashed to Henry’s desk. A potted aloe sat beside a jar of pencils. She brought it to Ansel.

As he took it, he brushed his finger over hers, and she felt it all the way to her belly. She smiled and sat.

“As I’m sure you’re aware,” Ansel said to Nat, “the only known defense against magic spells is silver. I’ve discovered a way to evenly suspend the particles in room-temperature liquid.”

He gave Nat the same demonstration he’d performed for Gretta. He must have been nervous because he spilled half the germina powder. Henry would be puzzled when he saw his aloe had doubled in size over the weekend.

Throughout the presentation, Gretta kept her eyes on Nat, searching for any reaction. His expression didn’t so much as twitch.

When Ansel finished, he said, “I suppose that’s it. Do you have any questions?”

Nat remained quiet. Ansel glanced at Gretta, and she shrugged. He shrugged back. He packed his things and reclaimed his seat.

“Well?” she said when the silence got awkward. “What do you think? Pretty amazing, right?”

Nat drummed his tiny fingers on the desk. “It has my attention.”

Gretta whipped her face to Ansel, clutching his hand. For Nat, that was the equivalent of a ticker-tape parade.

Nat’s fingers stilled on the desk. “I’d like to speak to Gretta. Alone.”

Ansel squeezed her hand and collected his case. He left, closing the door behind him.

She tried to keep the giddiness from her voice. “I told you—”

“What the hell is going on?”

“…What do you mean?”

“The man kidnapped you, Gretta.”

She slumped into the sofa. “Technically, he didn’t. It was his dumbass henchman.”

“I expected you’d be using his balls as a paperweight by now, not fondling him in my office.”

“It’s none of your business.”

“I’m making it my goddamn business. I’m worried about you. I’vebeenworried.”

God, she missed when he was just another rich citizen. Becoming chancellor would only make him more condescending.

“Look. Ansel and I have history.” She hesitated. “He’s the boy who was in the cottage with me.”

Nat’s eyes widened a fraction. His small hand flattened on the desk as he leaned forward. “That makes it worse. You’re not approaching him objectively.”

“Save the lectures. My relationship with him has nothing to do with you.”

“Whatisyour relationship with him?”

She thought a moment before opting for the simplest answer. “We’re friends.”Who fuck. And snuggle.

Nat scoffed. Drumming his fingers again, he contemplated her while the grandfather clock ticked.

“We’re wasting time,” she said. “Are you going to invest in him or not?”

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