“See you Tuesday at the studio,” I tell her, opening the door. “And thanks again for the goodies.”
“You’re welcome. Feel better.”
As soon as I ease the door shut, it seems as if this weird tension has been siphoned from the space along with her.
“Feelbetter?” Hugh says when I join him at the island. He’s unloading his purchases onto the counter.
“Yes, much,” I say, sliding onto one of the barstools.
“Glad to hear that, of course, but what I meant was why wasSashasaying that? You didn’t tell her what happened, did you?”
“God, no. But I had to explain being out of touch for a couple of days, so I said I’d been sick.Haveyou met her someplace?”
“No—at least not that I have any memory of. It almost seemed she was trying to be provocative.”
“Yeah, well, I’m beginning to sense that’s her MO.”
I notice his attention suddenly snagged by the bouquet on the table.
“What was she doing here, anyway?” he asks. “I thought you were going to take it easy today.”
“She was desperate to review some research with me before next week and basically invited herself over.”
“That’sannoying.” He glances down at the food on thecounter. “I’m going to set all this up, but give me a minute to change, will you?”
“Sure. What can I do?”
“Nothing, just relax.”
But as soon as he heads down the hall to the bedroom, I call the front desk at WorkSpace. Carson’s shift must be ending around now, and I’m relieved when he picks up. I identify myself and ask if he remembers talking to me on Tuesday about my lost phone.
“Yes, did you find it?” he says.
“Unfortunately, not. Can I ask you a couple of questions, though? I was ill at the time and kind of discombobulated when we spoke.”
“I figured. You sounded pretty frazzled.”
Because I was beginning to separate from who I was?
“By any chance, do you remember the time of the call?”
“Uh, it must have been after lunch. Maybe around three, three-thirty?”
“And did I say where I was calling from?”
“No, but it sounded like you were on the street. You said you’d lost your phone somewhere and borrowed a stranger’s to make the call.”
“Right, right, a passerby was nice enough to loan me theirs,” I say, winging it. “I wish I had the number so I could send a thank-you text.”
“Unfortunately, I can’t help you with that. It would be tough to go back through caller ID.”
Damn it, I think. “Understood.”
“Anything else I can be of assistance with?”
He sounds eager to be done, but I can’t let him go yet.
“Nothing specific, no. I... I just hope I wasn’t a bother. I didn’t go on and on about what was wrong, did I?”
