'I hope you're as delighted as I am that we've found you a suitable match, Mr. Chastain. I wish you the best of luck.'
There was a discreet pause and then Hobart cleared his throat.
'Can I assume that you are entirely satisfied?'
Nick stretched out a hand and picked up the receiver. His fingers brushed against the set of gold cufflinks he had left on the bedside table earlier when he had undressed. The cuff links had been a gift from Ella. Each was inscribed with an elegant C and the intial B. 'Your father's,' she had explained.
'This is Chastain, Batt. Consider your debt to Chastain's Palace paid in full.'
'Thank you, Mr. Chastain.' Gratitude and relief vibrated in Hobart's voice. 'You know, this is my second match between a very high-class talent and a full-spectrum prism in recent months. Most counselors don't see even one such match in their whole careers.'
'Is that a fact.' Nick stroked Zinnia's thigh.
'I'm starting to wonder if we've been functioning under some false assumptions concerning the synergism between strong talents and powerful prisms,' Hobart continued in a chatty tone. 'The phenomenon of psychic energy in humans is so recent and it's evolving very swiftly. We may have a lot more to learn than we realized.'
'You may be working under some false assumptions, Hobart, but I know exactly what I'm doing.' Nick hung up the phone and started to pull Zinnia down into his arms.
She splayed her fingers across his chest. 'Hold it right there, Chastain. What would you have done if it turned out that my old marriage-agency records did not spell out a good match between us?'
He smiled into her laughing, loving eyes. 'I would have altered the records through the computer until they did show a perfect match. I'm a matrix-talent, remember? I've always got a plan.'
