She wasn’t in the living room or the dining room. He found her in the den at the end of the hall, sitting on the floor beside an elegant cherrywood bar. Her back and head were against the wall. Her feet were flat on the floor and bare, her knees bent. The folds of her long wraparound robe fell between her legs. Half buried in the material was the glass that dangled from her hand.
Through eyes filled with misery, she watched him approach. His step slowed as he neared. He stopped several feet away.
“Are you all right?” he asked. He had fully expected to find her stone drunk, but, looking at her, he wasn’t sure. More than anything, she seemed tired and unhappy. When she didn’t answer, he said, “I tried to call. Didn’t the phone ring?”
She tipped her head a fraction and gave a single nod.
“Why didn’t you answer?”
With her head at the same slightly tipped angle against the wall, she lifted a shoulder in a weak shrug. It struck Sam then that she did look weak. He could understand it, after the few days she’d been through. He still didn’t know if she was drunk.
“Have you gotten any sleep?”
Her eyes didn’t move from his, as though she didn’t have the power to direct them. But, very slowly, she moved her head from one side to the other.
“Don’t you think you should? It’s been more than twenty-four hours.”
She spoke then. Her speech wasn’t exactly slurred, though she barely moved her mouth, and the sound that came through was meek. “How did you get in?”
“I climbed a tree and snuck in through one of the bedrooms.”
“That’s breaking and entering.”
“No. It’s trying to be a Good Samaritan. You might have made things a little easier by answering either your telephone or the door. I’ve been worried.”
Susan straightened her head against the wall. That was the only change she made. Her mouth moved as little as it had before, her voice was as meek. “Savannah sent you.”
“I haven’t spoken with Savannah.”
“She sent you.”
He shook his head. “I haven’t spoken with her.”
“You wouldn’t have come otherwise.”
He frowned. “Why would you think that?”
“Because you respect Savannah. You’d do anything she asked.”
“I work with Savannah. I’d do what she asked if it made sense. But I’m not here on business. This is personal.”
Susan raised the glass to her mouth and tipped it, but only to take in an ice cube. When the glass was back dangling between her thighs, she closed her eyes. “You’re not making sense.”
Coming closer, Sam squatted before her. “I was worried about you, Susan. You’ve been through a lot this week, and last night wasn’t a picnic to top it off. I’ve been through things like this before. You haven’t. I wanted to help.”
Her eyes were open again, but vague. “Why?”
“I like you.”
She inched her head from side to side. “You think I’m spoiled and stuck-up. You like my looks, but you don’t like me.”
“Half right. I do like your looks. But I like you, too. I’m just trying to decide how much.”
She looked mildly confused as she considered that. Then she turned sullen. “Don’t bother. It’s not worth the effort.”
“Why not?”
“Because what you see is what you get. There’s not much inside the shell.”
