“Look at me.”
She didn’t.
“Agnes.”
Finally, reluctantly, she lifted her gaze.
“It’s me, Agnes. Bloody hell, woman. Just tell me what’s really going on?”
“I did tell you. It’s a family history project. Nothing more.” Her gaze darted away from mine, and I took a deep breath, ignoring the need to throttle this stubborn woman that I loved more than life itself.
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I have right now.” She turned away, busying herself with straightening the papers into neater piles. “I appreciate the scones, Graham. Really. But I’ve got a lot of work to do, and I need to?—”
“Need to what? Close your shop and barricade yourself in your flat until you find whatever it is you’re looking for?”
“I’m not barricading.”
“True enough as you forgot to lock your door downstairs.”
“Did I?” Agnes glanced to the door in surprise and then shrugged. “That’s not wholly uncommon. You know how small towns are.”
I took a breath, forcing myself to stay calm. PushingAgnes only made her dig in deeper. Iknewthat. I’d learned it the hard way over years of watching her retreat every time I got too close.
“Right,” I said, gentling my voice. “You don’t want to tell me what this is about. Fine. I can’t make you. But at least let me help.”
“Youcan’t help with this.” Agnes’s tone put me off. I tilted my head at her in question.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s...” She pressed her lips together, frustration flickering across her face. “It’s complicated. It’s family stuff, and there might be Order stuff tangled up in it, and I need to figure it out on my own.”
“Says who?”
“Says me.”
“And you’re always right about everything, are you?”
“Aye, about this, I am.”
Bloody hell, but she was infuriating. I pinched my nose and took a deep breath, considering my options. It seemed I needed to continue to be patient with her.
Turning, I picked up the kettle and filled it with water at the sink, while Agnes made another sound of distress behind me.
“What are you doing?” Agnes asked in the same tone as if I’d just offered a baby cocaine.
“Making tea. I hear it pairs well with scones.”
“Graham—”
“And then you’re going to eat one of those scones, and drink a cup of tea, and we’re going to get this sorted.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I didn’t ask if you were hungry. I said you’re going to eat.”
Agnes glared at me. I smiled pleasantly back.
