"I know—-I mean,no," the older man hastily corrected himself. "I am not texting your husband, Mrs. Harcourt."
"Will you show me your phone then?"
Andrew had the grace to flush when he realized how neatly Summerine had him trapped in a corner.
"Andrew?"
"Yes, Mrs. Harcourt?"
"Can you please just answer one last question for me?"
"I..."
"It won't get you in trouble, I promise."
"I'll try, Mrs. Harcourt."
"Do you think...if I ask my husband to...d-delegate some of hisemergenciesand have someone else handle it, do you think h-he'll say yes?"
Summerine could see the older man hesitating.
"Please, Andrew."
And she realized she wasn't too shy to take advantage of this.
"I just need to know the truth."
The older man looked at her gravely. "If you're asking what I believe Mr. Harcourt would likely choose if it were between you and his emergencies at work—-"
Summerine held her breath.
"I believe it's best that you don't ask him to choose, Mrs. Harcourt. There are some things we are better off not knowing."
Soft Spot
(DO YOU SEE THE IRONYhere?)
