Too many orders, not enough time. Not that this is a problem I’m complaining about of course. I climb wearily up the stairs to my bedroom. The spars... but well-appointed room is a sight for sore eyes after the organized chaos that is my workshop. He was still asleep, and I stood for a moment to admire his form – his body radiated warmth against the grey sheets, the dark mahogany bed, and the sunlight beginning to filter through the windows. For a moment, I just wanted to crawl into bed, suckle. ”“But...”“Come get a hug, please; then do as I said.”Birgit came to me, we hugged, and then she reluctantly left my study, closing the door behind her. I sat down in one of the leather wingback chairs and willed myself to relax. Six minutes later, my phone rang and I answered it.“Steve? This is Fran Mercer.”“Hi. Sorry to disturb your Friday evening, but I need your help.”“What’s wrong?”“Yesterday, when I left your office, I saw Anna Wilson, well, I don’t recall her married name. She was someone. More

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