“You are always in a hurry, Conner, you don’t even have time to talk to anyone,” she lamented and Conner watched her drama scornfully, “Don’t look at me like that, it’s true. We all want to spend time with you but you are always too busy,” she pouted.

“Is there anything I can do for you, Margaret?” Conner inquired, and she smiled briefly, holding his hand, and leading him to the garden where she was sitting.

“Come,” she beckoned to him, freeing his arm, and he strode in her direction. “Sit,” she gestured, sitting down on a chair opposite the one she had offered him.

“You see, I’ve been wanting to talk to you about something for a very long time now.” She began with a very serious note, but Conner knew it was all a façade. 

“Why don’t you take a break, from all the work? You have been working since my father in law was sick, and now that he is dead, you’re still immersed with work.” She sounded so emotional and if Conner was just knowing her, he would have fallen for it.

“Margaret, did I come to you to complain about my work?” he questioned her coldly.

“You never complain about anything, but it doesn’t mean you are not suffering,” she noted with a sigh