Then she shook her head once.
“Daniel,” she whispered, “not here.”
The words were gentle, but they landed heavily.
Not here.
Not in front of Jennifer.
Not in this house.
Not while the walls were listening.
I closed the box.
“All right,” I said. “Then we’ll leave.”
Jennifer’s eyes widened. “Leave? Daniel, everyone is inside waiting for you.”
“No,” I said. “They’re not. They don’t even know I’m here.”
Her lips pressed together.
That confirmed it.
I turned to Emma. “Get whatever you need.”
She looked toward the house, and for the first time I saw panic move across her face.
“I don’t have much upstairs,” she said.
My throat tightened. “What do you mean?”
She swallowed. “Most of my things are
in the guest room.”
Jennifer quickly stepped forward. “That’s not what it sounds like. She moved there temporarily because Mother’s back was hurting and—”
“Enough,” I said.
The word wasn’t loud, but it ended the sentence.
From inside the house, laughter rolled through the open doors, followed by Michael’s voice calling for another bottle of champagne.
Emma looked at me, then back at the sink full of dishes.
“I should finish,” she said automatically.
