“Sure.”
After watching her go, Paul climbed the steps to his room, shaking his head, thinking how nice she’d looked. He took off his clothes, rinsed his shirt in the sink and hung it over the curtain rod, then turned the faucet. As Adrienne had warned, it took a while before the hot water came on.
He showered, shaved, and threw on a pair of Dockers, a collared shirt, and loafers, then went to join her. In the kitchen, Adrienne had set the table and was carrying the last two bowls to the table, one with toast, the other with sliced fruit. As Paul moved around her, he caught a trace of the jasmine shampoo she’d used on her hair that morning.
“I hope you don’t mind if I join you again,” she said.
Paul pulled out her chair. “Not at all. In fact, I was hoping you would. Please.” He motioned for her to sit.
She let him push her chair in for her, then watched him take his seat as well. “I tried to scrounge up a paper,” she said, “but the rack at the general store was already empty by the time I got there.”
“I’m not surprised. There were lots of people out this morning. I guess everyone’s wondering how bad it’s going to be today.”
“It doesn’t look much worse than it did yesterday.”
“That’s because you don’t live here.”
“You don’t live here, either.”
“No, but I’ve been in a big storm before. In fact, did I ever tell you about the time I was in college and went down to Wilmington…”
Adrienne laughed. “And you swore you never told that story.”
“I guess it’s coming easier now that I’ve broken the ice. And it’s my one good story. Everything else is boring.”
“I doubt that. From what you’ve told me, I’m thinking that your life has been anything but boring.”
He smiled, unsure if she meant it as a compliment, but pleased nonetheless.
“What did Jean say had to be done today?”
Adrienne scooped out some eggs and passed the bowl to ward him.
“Well, the furniture on the porches needs to be stored in the shed. The windows need to be closed and the shutters latched from the inside. Then, the hurricane guards have to be put up. Supposedly, they lock together and there are some hooks you drop in to keep them in place; after that, we brace them with two-by-fours. The wood for that is supposed to be stacked with the hurricane guards.”
“She has a ladder, I hope.”
“It’s under the house, too.”
“It doesn’t sound too bad. But like I said yesterday, I’d be happy to help you with it after I get back.”
She looked at him. “You sure? You don’t have to do this.”
“It’s no bother. I don’t have anything else planned, anyway. And to be honest, it would be impossible for me to sit inside while you were doing all that work. I’d feel guilty, even if I’m the guest.”
“Thank you.”
“No problem.”
They finished serving up, poured the coffee, and started eating. Paul watched her butter a piece of toast, momentarily absorbed in her task. In the gray morning light, she was pretty, even prettier than he’d realized the day before.
“You’re going to talk to that person you mentioned yesterday?”
Paul nodded. “After breakfast,” he said.
“You don’t sound too happy about it.”
“I don’t know whether to be happy or not.”
“Why?”
After the briefest hesitation, he told her about Jill and Robert Torrelson—the operation, the autopsy, and all that had happened in the aftermath, including the note he’d received in the mail. When he finished, Adrienne seemed to be studying him.
“And you have no idea what he wants?”
“I assume it’s something about the lawsuit.”
Adrienne wasn’t so sure about that, but she said nothing. Instead, she reached for her coffee.
“Well, no matter what happens, I think you’re doing the right thing. Just like you’re doing with Mark.”
He didn’t say anything, but then, he didn’t have to. The fact that she understood was more than enough.
It was all that he wanted from anyone these days, and though he’d met her only the day before, he sensed that somehow she already knew him better than most people did.
Or maybe, he thought, better than anyone.
Ten
After breakfast, Paul got into his car and fished the keys from the pocket of his coat. From the porch, Adrienne waved, as if wishing him luck. A moment later, Paul looked over his shoulder and began backing out of the drive.
He reached Torrelson’s street in a few minutes; though he could have walked, he didn’t know how fast the weather would deteriorate, and he didn’t want to be caught in the rain. Nor did he want to feel trapped if the meeting started to go badly. Though he wasn’t sure what to expect, he decided he would tell Torrelson everything that had happened with regard to the operation but wouldn’t speculate on what had caused her death.
He slowed the car, pulled it to the side of the road, and switched off the engine. After taking a moment to prepare himself, he got out and started up the walkway. A neighbor next door was standing on a ladder, hammering a piece of plywood over a window. He looked over at Paul, trying to figure out who he was. Paul ignored the stare, and when he reached Torrelson’s door, he knocked, then stepped back, giving himself space.
When no one came to the door, he knocked again, this time listening for movement inside. Nothing. He moved to the side of the porch. Though the doors of the outbuilding were still open, he didn’t see anyone. He considered calling out but decided against it. Instead, he went to the trunk of his car and opened it. From the medical kit, he pulled out a pen and tore a scrap of paper from one of the notebooks he’d stuffed inside.