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Ryan and Lara split the driving, working on the band's blog in turns. As northern Virginia drew closer, Ryan found herself fidgeting in anticipation. She couldn't wait to see Brody. After his concussion, they'd dispensed with video calls, as he didn't want to risk a headache from staring at the screen. It worked better for Ryan anyway, since she tended to call while the band traveled. She wondered if he still had his playoff beard. Lara pulled up in front of the apartment building and both women stared at it. "It's weird to think we don't live here anymore," Ryan said. "I was just thinking that." Lara smiled. "Come on, let's get your stuff out. Does Brody know you're here? Do you want to leave your stuff here first while you check?" "I called a while ago, and he said he'd be home all day. I'll just grab my guitar and my clothes. If you could hold on to the keyboard and the rest, I'll get it as soon as I can." "No problem." Lara stepped out and Ryan followed suit. "I'm going to my. It was every bit as bad as she had feared it would be. She had no idea how many strokes Lady Mathom was going to award her but she would gladly have accepted double if by doing so she could have been excused that dreadful walk through the Hall. Her first crisis came in the hallway where one of the Hall’s footmen was dawdling. He was suitably polite, bowing and addressing her as “Milady” but it was torture to cross the hallway under his gaze. She mounted the wide banistered stairway feeling his eyes on the swell of her buttocks beneath their gauzy covering as she climbed the stairs, her face crimson in embarrassment. At the second landing she turned into the gallery praying that it would be empty. But there was to be no remission for Jennifer this day. Nearly at the far end, close by the door that was her destination, was a young housemaid polishing the woodwork of the oak panels. Jennifer nearly turned and fled but the young girl sighted her and rose to her feet to curtsy and there.
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