Elara sat in the sunlit window seat, turning pages of her novel without absorbing the words. Her recovery from illness had been slow but steady. Physically, she felt stronger, but her mind remained clouded with thoughts that circled like persistent vultures.
Eleanor Thorne bustled into the room, her face pinched with irritation. "That grandson of mine! Do you know what he's doing on a perfectly fine Sunday afternoon?"
Elara marked her place in the book. "Working in his study, I assume?"
"With Vivienne!" Eleanor's voice carried a note of distaste. "Some project they simply must complete today, apparently. As if weekends mean nothing."
"It's important to him," Elara replied mildly, masking the familiar ache that accompanied any mention of Vivienne.
Eleanor sat heavily in the armchair across from her. "Well, he should be spending time with his family. You're barely recovered, and Coco has been asking to go riding all day."