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“So they didn’t expect anything else,” she confirms, hitting the nail on the head so cleanly that I don’t even feel it pierce my skin.
“Do your parents know what you do?”
“No,” she says looking up at the leaves that seem to be holding in the sunlight that breaks through the clouds, “they’re dead.”
I don’t ask her to elaborate because I don’t think she’d tell me the truth anyway, so I let it go.
She crosses her legs and shifts towards me. “Are the reporters outside of the house because of me?” she asks, changing the subject.
I sit up straighter and sigh. “They’re here because of me.”
“I heard what Rausch said. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop,” she’s quick to add, “but he can be loud.”
“Are you worried about it?”
She lets out a breath. “Darren, I know what and who I am. I’m not worried about me,” she pauses. “I’m worried about you.”
“Fuck.” I run a hand through my hair. “I don’t deserve that.”
“You don’t,” she says, resolutely, “but I’m feeling generous today, so don’t piss me off and make me take it back because I’ll open the front door and throw you to the wolves.”
I raise my arm and place it over the back of the bench. “I’d prefer being thrown to the wolves than attending a charity event,” I say, raising an eyebrow.
“Charity event?”
I give her a wolfish grin. “Do you like masquerade balls?”
19
Squirrel
Evangeline
I’m about to step into the kitchen but stop abruptly, noticing Lottie at the sink drying dishes. At least I have clothes on this time.
She gives me a warm smile. “Can I get you anything?”
“No, I was just going to grab a cup of coffee.”
Lottie grabs the cup before I’m able to. “No, no, honey, let me get it for you.”
I concede by taking a seat at the island while she operates the espresso machine with familiarity. “I’m sorry about the other day,” I tell her. I want to say that I don’t normally run through a house naked, but that’d be a lie. She places the cup of coffee in front of me and I smile, looking down at my hands as I wrap them around the cup. “I just didn’t want you to think…”
“Mrs. Walker,” she says, and I look up, eyes wide.
“Please,” I reply, “Evangeline.”
Lottie nods. “Evangeline,” her brown eyes take on a knowing gleam. “You have nothing to worry about.”
I get the feeling that my bare breasts are probably the least of the questionable things she’s seen over the years. “You’ve worked here a long time, haven’t you?”
“Ever since Darren was a little boy.” Lottie says with pride. “Would you like a scone?” She pushes the plate piled high with flaky pastries closer to me. They’re still so hot I can see the steam rising off them, but I shake my head, not having much of an appetite.
“I make a really great omelet too,” she offers, wiping her hands on a towel and then placing it on her shoulder.
“Coffee’s fine,” I say, holding up the cup and taking a sip.
She tilts her head. “You’re uncomfortable.”
