.”“John, I won’t take no for an answer. Besides a debt that I’ll never be able to finish repaying, we love Kara to death, and you two are some of my favorite people. A woman only gets one show at this - well, ideally - and it needs to be magical. Now, no more protesting. You know I get my way when I set my sights on things, so either give up now and accept my offer or I’ll just browbeat you, and then you’ll give up and do it my way. Either way, we all know how this is going to end.”She was smiling, but her tone had changed almost imperceptibly. It was still friendly and warm, but with a steel edge to it. He’d never seen her go full Senator before and knew this was only a taste of her powers of persuasion, but he found it hard to say no. He couldn’t even imagine what she was like when she really got going.“We accept,” Whittaker said, earning a bright smile.“Excellent. I’m glad he has someone reasonable keeping him in line.”Whitaker and Caldwell laughed but smiling at Taylor. He knew he. She wondered if she needed hip replacement. She limped to her dresser and pulled out one dark chocolate Ferrero Rocher, unwrapped the foil around it with fumbling, unsteady fingers, and popped the crunchy dark ball in her mouth. For a moment, as the dark chocolate taste hit her tongue, she forgot that she felt like she was an old woman, even though she was only in her fifties. She was living like Ivan Ilyich from Tolstoy’s tale. She lived a life she didn’t like, and cantankerousness was a constant companion. It had created several ulcers in her, and multiple warts and blisters treated her skin as their abode. Her pale skin was wrinkled like ancient papyrus ahead of its time, and her hair was mostly silver and unkempt. She groaned as she moved a tad more than she intended, and felt her shoulder spasm mildly. Her bastard of a husband was dead, and she had never been gladder when they announced it in the hospital. He was the source of too many of her ills and troubles, so from her.
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