The maids told her before lunch.
He was expected back by evening, coming in from the his visits, nothing unusual in the itinerary. Lora received this information with a nod and went back to what she was doing, which at the moment was sitting on the couch in the room with her legs tucked under her, filing her nails with the unhurried strokes as her mind wandered all over the place.
She heard him come in though the front door, The voices in the entrance hallway were clear because the door was ajar, She heard Jeremy's, brief, and then nothing. Footsteps on the stairs, steady and slightly uneven. She didn't look up.
The door opened.
She kept her eyes on her hand, drawing the file in slow strokes, aware of him crossing the room toward her in her peripheral vision. She waited for him to stop at the table, or the window, or anywhere that wasn't directly beside her. He didn't stop.
Why is he coming to this side, she thought, and looked up.
