Request for Henry and Nadine for the prompt: "I could tell it was your favorite book from all the notes you wrote in the margins."
"Wait, Nadine!" Henry followed her out of Elizabeth's office, so she stopped and turned back up the hallway. "This came home with Elizabeth last night," he said, "but I think it's yours. It must've gotten mixed up in all the reports she brought home." He held up a battered, clearly well-loved copy of Slouching Towards Bethlehem. "I didn't notice it on her desk until after she'd already left this morning."
Nadine straightened. "Oh! Thank you so much." He handed it over. "I was looking for that. I take it with me on every flight; it... it's my favorite book." She seemed almost bashful admitting even this one small part of her personality.
"I could tell it was your favorite book from all the notes you wrote in the margins," he pointed out. He hadn't read through them or anything, but he had thumbed through the book at first to make sure it didn't belong to anyone in the family, and all the annotations were impossible to miss. They were jotted down in different inks in any bit of free space there was, and there was no mistaking the handwriting. Henry had seen it enough times along the margins of all of Elizabeth's memos.
Nadine grinned. "This isn't even my worst copy."
"Why does that not surprise me?" It struck Henry now that of all of Elizabeth's staff, he knew the least about Nadine. He knew all about Jay's family; the drama that was Daisy and Matt's off-and-on relationship; Blake's neurotically WASPy family—all because of and through Elizabeth. But besides the Marsh debacle, he couldn't tell the first thing about Nadine. That meant that his wife likely couldn't, either.
Well, that wasn't entirely true—Elizabeth did tell him one thing. That Nadine was an intensely private person.
He knew this bothered Elizabeth, though she'd never admit to it. She admired her chief of staff and wanted to get to know her, but she was at a loss as to how to go about it.
"The other copies have water damage, broken spines, torn covers... I used to reinforce them with duct tape," Nadine explained with a chuckle. "But even so, they always got to a point where they became impossible to carry or read without falling apart in my hands. That's when I replace them."
"How... how many times have you read it?"
She thought. "At least once per year since... my junior year of college?" She held up a hand and said, laughing, "Please don't do the math. I don't need the reminder of my age."
"I'd never," Henry said, grinning himself. "Seems to me you should have it half-memorized by now, though."
She shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe. But it's always nice to read a fresh copy after a time. Like rediscovering her, in a way." Suddenly, she looked embarrassed to have shared so much.
"I think that's lovely," Henry said gently. "You know, I think I'll send you a new one soon. Yours looks like it's on its last legs."
Nadine beamed at him. It was arresting, the way it completely transformed her face. "That's very kind of you, Henry. And thank you for returning this one to me." She tucked the worn copy carefully into her handbag.
"You should talk to Elizabeth about it," he said. "I think she'd really like knowing this about you."
"You think?"
"Play It As It Lays is one of her favorite books of all time."
"Hey, Nadine?" Elizabeth called out. They both turned to see her leaning out of her office door. "I need you to run through these numbers with me again. When you have a minute."
"Of course, ma'am. I'll be right in." And then, still looking in Elizabeth's direction, she responded to Henry. "One of her favorites, huh?"
"Talk to her about it," he said again. He watched her carefully.
Nadine smiled. And suddenly, it seemed as if she was seeing Elizabeth for the very first time.