We made it back to the manor with six minutes to spare before Vivienne's brand call.
I considered this a personal victory.
The art supply package was enormous. Not "oh this is a bit heavy" enormous. It was "I need to reassess my life choices" enormous. Harlow had the audacity to skip ahead of me through the front doors while I navigated the entrance sideways like a crab with a mortgage.
"You're doing great!" she called back.
"I know," I said, to the wall.
Mrs. Tanaka appeared from nowhere, saw my situation, and disappeared just as quickly. No help forthcoming. I respected the efficiency.
I deposited the box in Harlow's room, declined her offer to show me what was inside with the excuse of Vivienne's call, and made it to the study with forty seconds to spare. Vivienne looked up from her desk, clocked my arrival time without a word, and went back to her notes.
