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“I’m sorry. Did you burn yourself?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“I would have rung the bell, but I noticed that your front door was ajar.”
He’d left the door ajar? But then, that wasn’t so surprising.
“It was?” she asked, playing innocent. “Huh. I stepped outside earlier to check for a package my neighbor was expecting yesterday. But it wasn’t delivered. I’d promised to keep an eye out for it. I guess the door didn’t shut behind me. It’s been doing that lately. Sticking without closing all the way. You have to push it.”
Stop talking!Liars got caught by overexplaining. Glenda had the cunning of a fox and the nose of a bloodhound. If she continued to blather like this, she would give herself away. “Whatcha got?” she asked, motioning toward the small white sack Glenda had brought with her.
“Have you been crying?”
“A little.”No, not a little. A lot. Hours of horribly ugly boo-hooing.
“What set you off?”
Elle picked up the sketch of Charlie that she and Calder had looked at together and showed it to Glenda, who placed her hand over her heart.
“Oh, how sweet. I haven’t seen that one.”
“I drew it just a few days ago. This morning, when I looked at it, it brought on a few tears.”
“I can see why. It’s so him.”
Elle nodded as she returned the sketch to the table and asked again about the sack.
“Half a dozen chocolate-covered doughnuts, fresh from the bakery. I brought them in the hope that you’ll indulge in a calorie or two. You need to put some weight back on. You’re still scrawny.”
Calder hadn’t seemed to think so. Scrawny hadn’t been included in the sexy litany he’d groaned as he’d penetrated her.
“Elle?” Glenda nudged her arm. “Here.” She passed her a wrapped doughnut, then handed over the sack.
“Aren’t you having one?”
“I don’t need the carbs. And, anyway, consider them an apology for interrupting while you’re working. I’m glad to see that you’re sketching again.”
“Baby steps, remember?”
“Baby steps. But you reported for work this morning without even taking the time to dress. I consider that a healthy sign and a good start. Maybe a sketch or two will get the creative juices flowing.”
“Let’s hope. I got a pep talk from Laura yesterday.”
“She’s much more worried about your well-being than she is about the book.”
Elle stopped licking the chocolate icing from her fingers and set the doughnut down. “How do you know what my agent is worried about?”
“Busted,” Glenda mumbled. “Dammit.” She sat down in Elle’s desk chair and turned to face her. “Laura and I compared notes.”
“About me?”
“Don’t get mad. She called me, and it was a well-intentioned conversation on both our parts. We’re worried about you.”
“Why? This is what grief looks like, Glenda,” she said, pointing to her face. “I can’t just spring back like the two of you obviously expect me to.”
“No one expects—”
“I’m going to need a minute, all right?” Elle was stung by the thought of the two women in whom she most often confided discussing her grieving process. “I resent your talking behind my back.”
