Page 68 of Statler

Statler came trotting over, an expression on his face she couldn’t discern.

“Hi, Statler,” Eliza managed.

“Hi Eliza. You look…lovely tonight.”

It was almost as if the words were dragged from him. They seemed sincere, and his eyes were taking her all in, but there was an underlying tension as he spoke, and she knew that was all her fault.

Uh, huh.

There was no time like the present.

“I want to explain things to you,” she offered up before she closed her car door.

“Explain where everyone can hear,” he told her, not quite snapping, but there was no overt warmth in his tone, either.

Eliza hung her head.

“Okay,” she agreed, trailing him by a few feet as he stalked back to the porch where the rest of the crew waited.

“Welcome, Eliza.”

Thank God for Blue’s genial voice.

Apparently, one of Statler’s people hadn’t judged her.

Yet.

“What can I get you?” Blue asked cheerily, but Eliza saw the conflict in her eyes now that she was up close. “A beer?”

“Uh. No thanks. I don’t drink on work nights,” she answered.

Or very much at all, anymore.

She’d once enjoyed having an occasional draft at the bars where she and Holden had often played darts, but the beverage now brought up too many painful memories for her to even attempt a sip.

“A soda will do. Or water if you don’t have any,” she amended.

“We have one kind of soda. Is orange okay?” Blue asked.

“That’s fine.”

“Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”

Blue disappeared while Eliza took the offered chair, shifting uncomfortably as she settled and everyone stared at her.

She dared look around and met their gazes to see what judgements they’d all made, but not one of them was giving anything away.

Eliza sighed.

“Maybe I should leave,” she said, starting to get to her feet.

“No.”

Statler’s tone brooked no argument. His wasn’t a request that she remain; it was an order.

Eliza’s chin went up.

Seriously?