“Yes, I just wanted to check in once more today,” he says. “I hated cutting you off like that earlier.”
“No worries,” I say, propping myself up on an elbow. “It’s so good to hear your voice again. To say nothing of that sexy accent.”
“Ah, let me pour that on a little more, then ... Have you heard anything else from the police?”
“Not yet. The detective says he’s planning to talk to a profiler—you know the term, right?”
“Yes, of course.”
“And then he’s going to circle back to us—so until then, we’re in a holding pattern. In other news, Logan’s girlfriend arrived today.”
“So, what’s she like?”
“Very glam. Very talky. Hates the too-skinny beds in first-class air travel. I can’t tell you more without sounding like a total bitch.”
Sebastian chuckles. “Please, go ahead. I could use some amusement.”
As I struggle into a full sitting position, I notice the time on the clock.
“Oh gosh, it’s later than I realized,” I tell him. “I need to dress for a dinner at the college president’s house.”
“Call me tomorrow morning, then, okay? I want to hear how it goes.”
“Yes, yes, for sure. Love you.”
“Love you, too,cariño.”
For the second time, I feel a twinge of regret over not letting Bas come with me. How much easier tonight would be if I wasn’t going to be the odd woman out, if I knew I could come back to this room after a night of awkward small talk and awful reminders and fall asleep with my head in the crook of his arm.
As I’m setting the phone down, I spot a text from Logan that came in while I was sleeping and somehow managed not to wake me.
I’ve let Halligan know Jack wasn’t the one who broke it off. See you in a while. Sorry not to respond earlier.
I wash my face, apply some makeup, and then peruse the clothes I’ve hung in the closet. Since I’m saving the dress I’ve packed for the reception, my only option for tonight is a pencil-style black gabardine skirt; a cream-colored silk blouse; and sort of dressy, short black boots.
After I’m ready, I head downstairs and order an Uber. Yes, I’m running late, but at least that will cut down on the amount of predinner mingling I’ll be stuck doing.
The president’s house is right inside the eastern gate of the college, and once the car drops me off, I’ve got only a short walk. Though I’m familiar with the house, a stately gray stucco structure with a whiteportico, I’ve never been inside. As I start up the front steps, I can see bright lights burning and a few people moving around.
The door is answered by a slim, fortysomething Asian woman, who smiles broadly as she ushers me inside.
“Bree, welcome,” she says. “I’m Eileen Zhao, head of donor relations. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”
“Likewise,” I say. “Logan’s mentioned how much he’s enjoyed working with you.”
The entrance hall is large and gracious, with a wide red-carpeted staircase leading to the second floor. Before I have time to survey more of my surroundings, a waiter appears, asking for my coat, and another shows up with a tray of wine and sparkling water. I decline the invitation for a drink.
“Maya is eager to see you, so why don’t we go inside,” Eileen says.
She gestures with her arm for me to precede her into the parlor. It’s an impressive room with pale-yellow walls, antique furniture cushioned in various yellow fabrics, and walls lined with oil portraits and landscapes. About a half dozen or so people are gathered inside, including Maya, who notices me right away and heads in my direction. There’s no immediate sign of Logan, but seconds later I spot him and Lisa in the adjacent conservatory, speaking to Jeffrey Handler and a woman I assume must be his wife.
“Oh, Bree, it’s wonderful to see you,” Maya says, clasping my hand. Eileen recedes discreetly into the background. “I know you were undecided about attending the reception, which I don’t blame you for, but we’re very glad you changed your mind.”
“Thank you, Maya, and thank you for this tonight.”
Maya is tall, close to six feet, with dark-brown skin, nearly black eyes, and slightly wavy black hair cut to just beneath her chin. Other than a few ribbons of gray in her hair, she hardly seems to have changed since I saw her last. And though she’s dressed without pretension tonight in pants and a dark-orange blouse, she exudes, as always, college president.
“Uruguay is agreeing with you, Bree. You look very well.”
