Part 83 (1/2)
”I don't want you to bunk here.”
”If you don't want us in, we'll stay out here, but we stay.”
”Oh, for G.o.d's sake.” She turned on her heel, strode back inside. She said nothing when he, with a slightly hesitant Barbie, followed her in.
Instead she went straight into the kitchen, poured herself a gla.s.s from an uncorked bottle of s.h.i.+raz.
”I know how to take care of myself.”
”No question. You know how to take care of yourself and everybody else. You don't know how, apparently, to let someone take care of you. That's conceit.”
She slapped the gla.s.s on the counter. ”It's independence and capability.”
”To a point, it is. Then it tips over into conceit, and stubbornness. You've tipped. This wasn't like you had a leaky pipe, so you grabbed a wrench or called a plumber instead of the guy you're sleeping with. Add the guy you're sleeping with is involved with this whole cl.u.s.terf.u.c.k. And he's a lawyer.”
”I called a lawyer,” she said, then immediately wished she hadn't.
”Great. Good.” Eli shoved his hands in his pockets, paced a couple of circles. ”So you talked to the cops, a lawyer, your neighbors. Anybody else other than me, of course.”
She shook her head. ”I didn't want to spoil your family's visit. It seemed pointless for you, or any of you, to worry.”
”You were worried.”
”I needed to ... Yes, all right. Yes, I've been worried.”
”I need you to tell me everything that happened, in detail. I need you to tell me what you said to the police, what they said to you. Everything you can remember.”
”Because you're a lawyer.”
The long, quiet look he sent her accomplished what words didn't. It made her feel foolish. It made her feel wrong.
”Because we're involved.” His tone, quiet as the look, finished the job. ”Because this started with me or with Bluff House, or both. And because I'm a lawyer.”
”All right. I'll pack first.” When he lifted his eyebrows, she shrugged. ”It's too cold for you to sleep outside. And I know he's got no reason to come back here again. He has reasons to break into Bluff House again. Or it feels like it. So I'll pack some things and go with you.”
Compromise? he wondered. Isn't this what his grandmother had spoken of? That give-and-take on both sides to find a balance.
”Good.”
When she walked away, he picked up her unfinished wine. ”We won that battle,” he told Barbie. ”But I don't think we've won the war. Yet.”
He let her have quiet on the drive down, and stayed downstairs when she went up to unpack. If she put her things in another bedroom, he'd deal with it later. For now, it was enough to know she was with him, and safe.
In the kitchen, he poked in the fridge, the freezer. Leftover ham, he calculated, and plenty of sides. Even he should be able to put a decent enough meal together.
By the time she came down, he had the Monday night hodgepodge meal set up in the breakfast area.
”You can fill me in while we eat.”