Those were a lot of words. A lot of words that came from the mouth of Freddie Gallagher.
"Right," she said.
Freddie finished folding the awning and slid the pole into its groove with a soft click. He looked up at her, just briefly, and she got the full effect of the gray eyes—attentive, private, telling her nothing at all—before his gaze dropped to the carrier again.
"I hope he rests tonight," he said.
"Right."
Then he turned to lock the cart, and the conversation was over as completely as if a door had closed.
Wren walked the remaining forty steps to Pages & Prose with Heathcliff swaying gently against her leg. She had a whole file for Freddie Gallagher, she was beginning to realize. The file had been getting fuller for three weeks without her particularly deciding to add things to it. She added to that file; nice laugh and soulful gray eyes.
