Page 84 of Outcast’s Vow

Eleanor doesn’t even look at me – her eyes don’t even leave the canvas – but I can tell she’s focusing like a venomous snake lurking in the bushes might regard a potential meal.

“You’ve seen this one before?” she asks me in a smooth flick.

“Not in person, but I’ve always meant to,” I explain, my heart pounding. “She rarely displays this one, probably because of the backlash it’s received compared to her other work. It’s seven feet wide and five feet tall. A lot of people don’t like it because it’s so bleak and mournful, but what I think is that it’s the most personal of her works. I think what people fail to see is the thin white line she’s painted down the exact middle of the canvas. It can appear to be nothing but, to me, that line is her signature of hopeful resilience. And I think that sums up her soul more than the drama displayed around it. That little bold act of defiance is why I love this painting, and that’s why I love Juniper Wren.”

There is a long pause.

God, have I said too much? Have I been too passionate for this iron lady? I’m starting to panic.

But then she speaks.

“I’m impressed. Finally, someone else who appreciates good art. I’ve always liked how Wren’s work is a reflection of quiet female hardiness, but I’ve not found anyone who agrees with me. Until today.”

And then, she finally turns to look at me, her penetrating eyes gleaming.

“You must be Sylvie,” she says with a shrewd smile. “The new bride of the genius Baptiste Tremblay, is that so?”

I feel my mask slip. My composure rattles.

“How did you...”

Eleanor’s low chuckle cuts me off.

“Know who you are? Don’t take me for a fool, Sylvie. You don’t survive in this game long if you’re not familiar with the faces you might meet, or if you don’t know which women might be friends or rivals.”

“I would never dare consider you as a rival.”

“Wise woman.”

“I have to say that I have always been inspired by your volunteer work at the hospital and your position there on the board,” I tell Eleanor. “It’s so impressive what you’ve done there over the last ten years, turning it around from near-bankruptcy and scandal to one of the best in the country.”

She’s slow to react. My compliments don’t move her in the slightest. She’s taking me in. Weighing me up.

“I like your sweet words, Sylvie,” she finally says. “You’ll do well. I see your father has raised you right. Good man, that Elwood. But there must be an ulterior motive for your coming here today.”

“I just love Juniper Wren’s work.”

“Don’t take me for a fool for the third time, Sylvie. I may be polite, but I am impatient. What are you here for?”

I hesitate.

“Okay, so I may have an ulterior motive.”

The senator’s wife cocks an eyebrow.

“I’d love to hear it.”

I take in a deep breath. Here we go.

“I’m sure you’ve heard of the delay in my husband’s cybersecurity funding and the termination of the federal contract.”

“No political talk,” Eleanor says coldly. “Not here. I don’t do that. I’m not my husband’s secretary, and it also bores me.”

“I don’t think this is going to bore you,” I reply curtly.

Eleanor seems interested in my sudden directness.

“Oh? And why not?”