Chapter 227
“Cut back on those pointless TV shows, will you? They’re turning your brain to mush. Do you really think you can give someone medicine mouth-to-mouth? A straw would make way more sense.” Lyman reached out and gave Effie’s forehead a gentle flick.
“Ow,” Effie yelped, pressing a hand to her forehead.
“Did that hurt?” he asked, looking concerned.
He hadn’t used much force-just a light tap, really. Still, he worried that what felt gentle to him might not be so for her, and he watched her anxiously for a reaction. Effie caught the nervous look on his face, and a soft warmth bloomed inside her. She grinned. “Relax, I was just messing with you.”
She dropped her hand, ready to reassure him she was fine-but to her surprise, her forehead was a little pink where he’d flicked her.
“You… sure it doesn’t hurt?” Lyman asked, frowning.
“Not at all,” Effie replied.
Getting to her feet, she suddenly noticed her clothes had been changed.
Instinctively, she glanced at Lyman, who clearly guessed what was on her mind.
“I asked Gemma to help you with that,” he said quickly.
“Oh,” Effie squeaked, cheeks flushing red as she darted into the bathroom.
No wonder he’d given her that strange look a moment ago.
She checked the mirror-sure enough, there was a faint pink mark on her forehead from Lyman’s flick.
“Honestly, skin this thin—what am I, made of tissue paper?” she muttered, shaking her head.
After freshening up carefully, Effie finally stepped out of the bathroom.
Lyman was nowhere to be seen-maybe he was downstairs. She headed down, but the living room was empty as well.
Gemma appeared and said, “Mr. Etheridge left for the office he had an emergency meeting.”
Effie nodded. “Okay. Thanks.”
“Mr. Etheridge asked me to make you something soothing for your stomach,” Gemma continued. “He said you’d probably feel rough after last night, so you should eat something warm and gentle.”
Effie was actually craving something like that. Was Lyman a mind reader or something?
After finishing the bowl of nourishing soup Gemma had brought her, Effie headed out for work.
“Effie, you’re late!” Shirley called out as soon as she saw her. “Mr. Butler’s been in a mood since he got in. He was looking for you, and when he realized you weren’t here, he went off on all of us.”
Thinking back to the morning’s storm, Shirley instinctively hunched her shoulders, like a sapling battered by wind.
“Got it,” Effie replied, keeping her voice low.
She didn’t rush to find Irving Butler. If he really wanted her, he’d send for her himself. Her head was still pounding, and she wasn’t in the mood for conversation.
“Oh, by the way, this is for you.” Shirley handed her a small, elegant box. Effie blinked, puzzled. It wasn’t a holiday-why was Shirley giving her a gift?
Curious, she opened the box under Shirley’s expectant gaze and found a silk scarf inside.
“This is…”
“I saw a tutorial online about how to fix silk scarves,” Shirley explained, a little shy. “Turns out it’s not that hard. I gave it a try, and, well, you can barely see where it was torn.”
Effie examined the scarf. Sure enough, she couldn’t find a single trace of damage. “Thank you. I really love it,” she said with genuine gratitude.
Shirley’s face lit up. “I could tell how much you liked it, and I thought it was such a shame when it got ruined. So I fixed it myself—thank goodness you’re not mad at me for touching your stuff.”
“Mad? Why would I be mad? I’m thrilled!” Effie laughed.
Just then, Nelly spotted Effie at her desk.
She marched over, arms folded and nose in the air. “Effie, you’re just now showing up? Might as well not have bothered-what, you think you’re the boss around here? Come and go as you please?”