Eleanor Chen called at exactly 7:00 AM on a Thursday, which was her usual time for delivering important opinions, and she did not waste a single second on pleasantries.
"I've been analyzing the situation," she announced, her face appearing on the large video screen in the living room. She was sitting in her study, wrapped in a wool cardigan the color of winter clouds, her silver hair pinned in its usual elegant updo. Behind her, through the window, the bare branches of her rose garden were visible against the pale morning sky—seventeen skeletal silhouettes waiting for spring. "I've reviewed Sophie's seventeen-phase security plan. I've analyzed Kevin's surveillance data. I've studied the letter from Alexander seventeen times. I've prepared seventeen pages of strategic recommendations. I'm sending the document now."
Kevin's laptop pinged. "Document received. Seventeen pages. Including footnotes."
