New Years Eve

[Daphne Du Cadeau]

The sudden, genuine surprise from Eve registered immediately, followed by the sound of her own name for the artist, spoken with a familiar and almost affectionate ease: Minty. The swift offer of assistance was like a warm blanket thrown over Daphne's rigid anxiety, and she almost smiled.

A sharp, almost physical sensation of relief washed over Daphne, so potent it momentarily weakened her resolve. This was the precise reason she had wanted to tell Eve. Her friend never met a problem with anything less than unconditional support and practical action.

“I was hoping you would,” Daphne exclaimed, a rare emotional presence lending a sudden, almost fervent clarity to her low voice. It was the nearest she could come to expressing gratitude without becoming effusive.

She allowed herself a small, brief smile, a slight upward tug at the corner of her lips. “Someone else referred to her as ‘Minty’ earlier. I assume she is quite the eccentric personality to tolerate such a familiar abbreviation in professional settings.”