Chapter 13 - The Wheel

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It was surprisingly easy to make Freyda happy. Eric applied himself to the task as he would to any complex problem but, in the end, the solution was simple. All Eric had to do was pay attention.

For example, Eric knew his Queen favored lavender. She used it to scent her clothing, hiding small sachets in the drawers of her wardrobes. Eric arranged for small bouquets tied with ribbon to be delivered to Freyda's office every evening. The florist he used sourced the flowers from all over the world, following the seasons, so Freyda would never miss a day. He didn't attach a card and it had taken almost a week before his wife realized he was behind it. She was delighted and told him so. She stopped saying thank you, but she would wear a sprig of the latest bouquet tucked in a lapel or somewhere on her person. She would catch his eye, glance at the sprig, or show it in the palm of her hand, a signal between them that she saw and cared.

The next success Eric scored in courting his wife was noticing a single teacup in her chambers. It wasn't a real teacup, more of a miniature with painted flowers and 'Made in Japan' stamped on the bottom. No one seemed to know why the Queen kept it. It wasn't in a prominent position, but, instead, tucked toward the back of a shelf, yet it was a shelf that was always in Freyda's line of sight. Eric took a photo and had some research done. The cup came from a child's tea set that would have been sold when his wife was a young girl. He had several antique dealers work on it, and, one evening, he presented her with a wrapped box.

"What is it?" she asked him. It had been a good night. They had entertained human business people. Freyda was particularly effective. She was sophisticated, charming, and everyone left with a feeling that the continued relationships between themselves and vampires would make them all rich. Eric almost hesitated giving the box to her, she had been so adult in her actions, but his instincts insisted that this was actually the perfect time.

Freyda carefully sat down in her tight, pencil skirt and stiletto heels, the box balanced in her lap. She swept her long, thin fingers over the rosebud wrapping paper and arched her eyebrow. When he shrugged, she slit open the paper and slowly tore. He could see her thoughts flitting across her face. She was probably anticipating lingerie, but when the plastic window revealed the miniature tea set pieces nestled in their cardboard holders, her mouth fell open. Suddenly Freyda wasn't a powerful vampire, she was a little girl who had been given her favorite thing.

"Oh, how did you find it?" she asked in a voice so much younger than her own.

"It doesn't matter," he smiled at her, "It is worth it right now," and he leaned down and kissed her head.

She insisted on making love with him that night. She was pliant and enthusiastic and, if she noticed the moment his mind wandered away and his movements became more mechanical, she didn't say.

It became part of his routine, one more thing in the long list of things he did every night. Rise. Wash. Decide what new thing to do for Freyda today. Return emails. Conduct business.

Some evenings, the hour he allotted for being thoughtful in the matter of his Queen was spent in research. Sometimes that research was nothing more than spending time with Freyda, observing what interested her. Sometimes the research involved trying to dig into his wife's past to see if there was some experience that she might enjoy revisiting.

Something Eric came to understand was that although Freyda was much younger than himself, there was still very little history about her to be found. For one thing, she had no birth certificate. That was unusual. Most children were registered in a church or some official book. Freyda was not. He knew she had been born in the United States and that her parents were immigrants. He knew that her parents had been among those poor and desperate souls who sought to make a better life by following the wagon tracks to the West. Beyond that, he could find nothing.

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