The items in the suitcase were pitifully few:
Two sets of black professional attire, specially tailored for her law firm interviews;
A dark gray long trench coat that accompanied her through countless mornings in the cold winter wind of New York;
And a few thick English law books.
She folded them one by one, her movements gentle and meticulous.
Finally, she pulled up the zipper, which closed with a crisp "click," marking an end to something.
...
Downstairs, Mrs. Warren came over carrying a plate of sliced fruits.
She carefully placed the fruit plate in the center of the coffee table and turned to smile at Elara Joyce, who was sitting on the sofa.
"Miss Joyce, is your hand alright?"
Elara Joyce lifted her head, her voice crisp as a bell.
"I'm fine, thank you for your concern, Mrs. Warren."
"That's good to hear."
Mrs. Warren nodded, her face showing a peaceful smile.
As soon as she finished speaking, her gaze swept towards Sharon Quinn, her tone suddenly raised a bit.
