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“I do.”
“Then get dressed.”
She hobbled toward the bedroom, exaggerating her affliction. It wasn’t as bad as the first day. She was getting used to the extra exercise and using her brain more, but she was stiff after her nap on the floor.
* * *
Will sat on the couch while he waited, scanning the mess of papers strewn across the table and on the floor. Sticky notes peppered several pages where Charlotte had added her own notes. He picked one up and read it.
“Rarely answers a question directly. Ask a question on a question.”
That was a good pickup. He looked at a couple more notations. Most comments were focused on the way Maddy handled herself. Charlotte had been able to discern the meaning behind the things Maddy would say. Smart girl. She continued to surprise him.
He had to admit that, properly trained, she would make a good operative. He just hoped the small time they had together would be enough.
The bedroom door opened, and he looked up.
“Will this do?” she said, twirling in a pleated red dress.
He’d seen Maddy in the same dress. It looked different on Charlotte. “You’ve—” His voice caught in his throat, and he cleared it. “You’ve gotten much better on your feet, I see.”
“Don’t get any ideas. It’s only out of necessity. I might be able to walk in these things, but make no mistake, as soon as this is over, I would be happy never to lay eyes on another stiletto in my life.”
“What if you get married?”
“Barefoot.”
“Really?”
“Why not? Who says you have to wear shoes? Now, how’s the dress?”
“Yeah. It’ll do.”
“Oh.” She looked down and pinched the skirt. “Should I choose another?”
“No. That one’s fine.”
“I’m trying for overachievement here. If I have to dress like Maddison, I want to get it right every time. I can get changed if there’s a better choice.”
“No. You’re beautiful—it’s—beautiful. Perfect choice.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Great.”
Will blinked several times to take his gaze away from her and focus on something safer. “I see you’ve been taking notes?”
“Oh that? Yeah. I hope it’s okay.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
“I don’t know. Top secret stuff? I don’t know the rules. Are notes allowed?”
He grimaced. “I’m afraid…”
“Oh. I’m sorry. I can—I’ll burn them.”
