Unpleasant man. Who now had a problem on his hands.
“My front hall, meanwhile, is starting to look like a florist shop, not to mention people sending donations and flowers for the children and their parents at Heyden Court. And not to mention offers of vacation cottages and plane tickets and requests for interviews—it’s really quite overwhelming. Security didn’t plan on a deluge of flowers. They’re going to need clerical staff. Or Kate will. But the kids and families are just going to take a rest for a few days. And so am I.”
“The arm, Shawn.”
“Full recovery, given rehab. It’ll be fine. If it weren’t for you—a lot worse. Got to go now. My own doc wants me to lie flat. But I wanted you to know. Regards to everybody. You know who. I’m a little muzzy. Take care.”
“Take care,” he said, and Shawn broke the connection.
His aishid was looking at him, not in position to have heard any of it. “Good news,” he said, “nandiin-ji. Shawn is back in his residence, in fair prospect of a complete recovery. People are offering expressions of regret and support, to him and to the children and their parents.”
“Excellent,” Banichi said.
“I think I’ll change clothes,” Bren said then to Toby and Barb. A wind was picking up off the port side, fair for the continent and Najida. Very soon now Toby would shut down the engine and rely on canvas. “I’ll help you with the sails. Give me a moment.”
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C. J. Cherryh, Emergence
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