The Golden One Excerpt.

Musa was nowhere to be found, so Ramses spent a few hours wandering through the green groves of the Ezbekieh Gardens, to get the smells of el-Wasa out of his system. It was a little after midday when he returned to the hotel. Nefret was not there, so he went to see what his parents were doing. He found his mother alone in the sitting room, placidly working at a piece of embroider. Wondering what had prompted this unusual exercise – she hated sewing and did it very badly – he joined her on the sofa.

“Where is Father?” he asked.

“He took Sennia for a walk, in order to work off some of her energy. Have you finished packing?”

“No,” Ramses admitted. “Nefret told me I mustn’t, she says I always make a mess of it.”

“Just like your father. His notion of packing is to dump the entire contents of a drawer into a suitcase and then throw his boots on top.”

“What’s wrong with that?” Ramses asked, and got a smile in return.

And because I’m killing time and in a good mood, ya get a second excerpt! ;)

“You’re almost as suspicious-minded as your mother,” said Cyrus.

“My ma,” Ramses corrected. “That’s how Mr. Albion referred to her the other evening. Father, how would you like being addresses as Pa?”

“Not very much,” Emerson grunted.

“You are taking them too seriously,” I insisted. “They are rather silly and somewhat annoying, and we will have as little to do with them as possible. Have you decided what needs to be done here, Emerson?”

“What needs to be done,” said Emerson grumpily, “is lock the whole place up and shoot any damned tourist who tries to get in. Yes, yes, Peabody, I know, it is an impractical suggestion. You made plans of the brickwork you found west of the chapel, Vandergelt? The men had better cover it up again, otherwise the bloody tourists will climb all over it and destroy what little is left.”

“What about repairing the floor?” Cyrus asked. He was not anxious to waste time on that chore, but he was a conscientious individual.

“Leave it,” Emerson said. “One of the damned tourists may fall in.”

                                            ~ Excerpt from The Golden One by Elizabeth Peters.