Page 40 of Claimed By my Father's Enemies
I can see the change of emotions occur in real time in Adrian’s face, and how he tries to control it. "I’ve spent time with her," he says, not backing down. "She doesn't seem like the person you and Paula make her out to be."
"You know what happened." I fight to control the anger in my voice. "And now she's doing to Paula what Conrad did to my family. Using leverage to push someone out of their home only because she can." I pause and make sure to give a meaningful look both to Adrian and Carter. "Soon, she will show you her true colors."
Adrian looks at me. I look back.
Carter sets his pen down flat on the folder. Both of us turn. "Bali," he says. "Let's talk about Bali."
He pushes the permits summary to the center of the table. The meeting comes into order.
Carter walks the construction timeline. Adrian reviews the partnership liability clauses. Questions get asked, items get marked for revision, decisions get made. I try to contribute as best as I can. To track the conversation, hit the marks, say the correct things in the correct order.
But my mind keeps wondering about Sienna and the chaos that she is bringing to my life. Again.
I’m restless, so I get up and pace to the windows while answering Carter's questions. The Century city is out there, in its clean geometry, pale hills past it, the morning haze thinning in the early heat.
I turn from the window.
My eyes land on the desk. The dark pot at the edge of the leather pad. Keith.
Charlie asked me, from her hospital bed, to take it to her apartment when I had the chance. She wants it waiting for her when she is released in two days.
I'm not entirely sure when I decided to bring it here instead. It made sense in the moment, or I told myself it did. It was better if the plant was with me, so I could take care of it. I spend more hours in this office than I spend in any room of my apartment. If something is going to be cared for properly, this is where it needs to be. That's a rational conclusion. I stand by it.
I cross to the desk and move the pot a few inches to the left. The shadow it casts shifts against the stone wall behind the desk. Longer. The dark shape of it reaches further than it did a moment ago.
Komorebi.
That's the word Sienna used back in the hospital. I looked it up.
In Japanese culture, komorebi means appreciating the fleeting, the bittersweet awareness of the impermanence of things. It describes the interplay of sunlight filtering through the leaves of trees and the shifting, dancing shadows that this creates on surfaces like walls, floors, or curtains. The shadow patterns change every second with the wind and the angle of the sun.
I stand there looking at it.
I move the pot back the other way. I watch the shadow shift again, lengthen differently, reach a different corner of the stone.
"Since when do you have a plant?" Carter asks noting my actions.
I look down at the pot in my hands.
Since Sienna came back to my life.
The thought arrives without permission. Flat, clear, no argument attached to it. It simply lands.
I set the pot down on the edge of the desk and I turn back toward the table.
"It's Charlotte’s," I say. "She asked me to look after it."
Carter holds my gaze for one second. Then he looks back at his notes.
The meeting continues.
The shadows reach farther across the wall than they did before.
15
SIENNA
The truck's headlights die and the parking lot goes dark.
