Four thousand miles away and six hours later, a similar scene was taking place in Maryland. Margot leaned against the doorjamb, damping the sweat from her morning routine off her face with the corner of the towel slung over her well-developed shoulder. Judy had disentangled herself from the covers and curled up around them in the absence of her partner. Margot quietly huffed to herself in amusement; she always found Judy's habit of conquering as much bed as possible adorable, mostly because she was only too happy to be swathed in soft limbs.
Turning from her lover, Margot moved quietly into the kitchen. At fourteen weeks or so into the pregnancy, Judy was still solidly in the morning sickness phase, so Margot tried to keep all cooking to a minimum when she was awake. Normally, she would go for a power bar, but right now, she'd about kill for a pancake. She had three on the griddle with a handful of chocolate chips poised to go in when a soft chuckle announced that she'd been caught.
Fighting the urge to hide the spatula behind her back, Margot looked over at the rumpled and grinning woman in the doorway. "Morning. Can you manage breakfast?"
Judy shrugged. "For your cooking, I'll certainly try. You can have my share of chocolate chips, though." She slid into her accustomed seat, which just so happened to give her an excellent view of her partner's back and shoulders as she worked. After observing for a few minutes, she learned forward in the chair. "So what are you stressing about?"
"Me?" Margot scraped another pancake off and shoved it at a plate.
"Yes. It can't be money. We have more than either – all three of us could spend in our lifetimes, and you never cared for the high life anyway. So what am I missing?" The question on the table, Judy sat back, content to wait as Margot gathered her thoughts together. Once she had been challenged in any way, she'd answer… even if she might stall for a few minutes using mundane tasks as an excuse.
"I'm afraid they'll find Lecter. He's good as disappearing, but with the sheer amount of money at Barnum's disposal, he's still going to be caught."
"That's what you should want, though, right? I mean, what with your inheritance and him being your brother's murderer and all."
"Judy." The soft, intense use of her name made her look up into Margot's eyes. Her gaze said two things: that she was guilty of Mason's death, and that could not say it aloud for fear that their home – their sanctuary of the last several years – was under surveillance. At that moment, the smell of chocolate wafted over to her and her stomach lurched. Hand over her mouth, she stumbled from the room, unsure of whether it was the unborn child making her ill of the knowledge of how its father died.
Margot turned to the window, plate in hand as she looked across the lake. The sun was just moving out from behind the trees, burning the morning mist. For the benefit of her conscience and any nearby recording devices she mused aloud. "Barnum has more reason to keep the trust intact. He can collect fees for the rest of his life without having to answer anyone for it… unless I get to Lecter first."
Satisfied with her performance for anyone monitoring, she tucked into breakfast.
