Derek stood before his grandmother, his face a mask of understanding and at the same time,frustration. He had laid out the logic, the clear evidence of a conspiracy, but it had all shattered against the unyielding wall of her fear.
"But Grandmother," he started again, his voice tight with the effort of holding his temper, "you must see reason. This is …"
Beatrice raised a thin, age-spotted hand, a gesture that was as soft as a falling leaf and as final as a closing door. "That is enough, Derek," she said, her voice frail but absolute. "There will be no more discussion on this matter. My decision is made."
