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This is the Wakefield Doctrine’s contribution to the Six Sentence Story bloghop.

Hosted by Denise.

Last week we were privy to the ‘morning after’ enjoyed by Rue DeNite. She (and her bodyguard/man-in-waiting) was but half the dyad of that night’s dinner meeting. In the interest of fairness, shall we look in one her host, Cyrus St. Loreto’s morning after?

Prompt word:

TOAST

“So, Cyrus, is a toast in order this morning?”

The conference room on the actual top floor of the Espirito Santo building consisted of a very large table and two walls of optically-engineered glass affording a view down on Miami’s financial district and out over the Atlantic Ocean.

Genevieve Novak crossed the expanse of carpeting between the door to her reception area and the man sitting at the head of the conference table; the pre-dawn light from the East was striated by a hedgerow of clouds low on the horizon, turning the glow from glass panels into columns and tempted a person with a certain inclination to think of ancient temples and profane rites.

Standing to the left of the only person seated at the table, before a single setting consisting of crystal, china and linen, she waited with the restrained excitement of a trained raptor, the slightest of quiver of feathers betraying her anticipation of the command to fly; the smile, a skilled misdirection of the intensity of her focus on her boss, Cyrus, permitted no doubt that for this couple, the hunt was her dowry.

“The affair to the North has become of greater value and, as such demands a certain… gentle nurturing,” the first of the sun’s knocking on the coming day’s door brought a transitory illumination to the sole owner of the Bernebau Company’s face betraying an often unexpected humor, “This no longer is a, ‘wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am’ negotiation, and as much as that might come as a disappointment; call Constantin and have him return with no further efforts to convince our Mr. Caesare.”

Seeing the disappointment in his admin’s face, Cyrus smiled, rose from his chair and as he walked to the only other door into the conference room, left his words as sole consolation,

“Fiecare dimineață este produsul neintenționat al Păcatului Original. Aș fi mai rău decât un prost să nu sărbătoresc, aș fi un ingrat și Dumnezeu urăște ingrații.”

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