hotter.
“Really.” She’d allowed twenty minutes to change before Ross picked her up, and had spent thirty comforting Susan. You’d think she’d know by now to factor in the unexpected.Viv led the way up the stairs then realized she had no idea which room was Linda’s and paused at the mirror.
Shaking his head, Ross carried on. His limp was less pronounced today but his footsteps slowed as he approached a paneled door at the end of the corridor. As he opened it, he recoiled slightly before going in. “Can we get this over with?” he said shortly.
“Sure.” Curious to see what might have stalled him, Viv followed, stopping at the doorway. It was exactly Linda’s kind of bedroom. Restrained ostentation in gold, cream and eggshell-blue with ornately carved French reproduction furniture. Ross was at the window, sweeping aside the cream, brushed satin curtains to open it. It must have been the lingering scent of Linda’s perfume—expensive, heavy, floral—that he’d reacted to. Being here was hard for him, harder than Viv had appreciated.
In that case, they’d do this quickly.
The wardrobe ran the length of one wall. Opening the sliding door she cast a professional eye over the clothes, immaculately organized—by season as well as color—with shoes neatly stacked in clear storage boxes. “What would suit her?” she mused aloud.
“A witch’s hat and broom?” Ross pushed aside the curtain and took another breath of fresh air. “God, it’s good to say that.”
“How are you doing,” she asked. “With the pretending?”
Ross shrugged. I’m not comfortable with it, but hell, what choice do I have?” Every time he was distracted he unconsciously massaged his leg.
He saw the direction of her gaze and straightened.
“How’s the rehab going?” she asked to cover the awkward moment.
“Great.”
“Dan said you’ve been helping out with trainees,” Vivpersisted. Okay, she still asked her brother about his former troop mate, she couldn’t help it. “Is that something you’ll be doing more of when you go back?”
Ross stared at her. “Is that what Dan suggested?” he asked slowly.
“He mentioned it was an option.”
“Did he?”
The hair on the back of her neck rose at his tone. “Did I get that wrong? He just said it might be something you’d consider.”
A moment passed, he suddenly put up a hand to rub his forehead, shielding his eyes. “No…he’d never do that to me,” he muttered.
“Do what?”
“Nothing. Go ahead, choose something.”
Baffled, she returned her attention to the wardrobe, flicking through the hangers. “Aqua seems to be Linda’s favorite color.”
“Yeah, I remember her in a lot of bluey-green.”
Taking that as a direction, Viv chose a simple belted dress patterned in swirls of mariner-blue and seafoam-green and laid it on the bed.
Ross looked at it strangely. “She wore that at Dad’s funeral.”
Viv picked it up. “I’m sorry, I’ll change it.”
“No.” He turned back to the window. “She wore it because it was his favorite. It’s probably appropriate.”
She could see the tension across his shoulders, like a rubber band pulled tight. “Can I ask you a question…about the day she died? Why were you visiting a woman you disliked so much?”
He didn’t turn around. “She had something of my mother’s I wanted.”
“What was it?”
“The artwork she was taking down when she fell.”
“Oh,” she said, then the significance hit her. “Ohhh! But that doesn’t make her fall your fault. You know that, right?”
He faced her with folded arms. “We done here?”
“No, we need shoes.”
“The funeral director said they were optional.”
“She has to wear shoes,” she said sharply. She couldn’t forget Linda in her stocking feet, water pooling under her heels, wicking up her trousers. Suddenly afraid she was going to cry, Viv smoothed out the creases in the skirt.
Behind her she heard Ross move to the wardrobe. He
“Really.” She’d allowed twenty minutes to change before Ross picked her up, and had spent thirty comforting Susan. You’d think she’d know by now to factor in the unexpected.Viv led the way up the stairs then realized she had no idea which room was Linda’s and paused at the mirror.
Shaking his head, Ross carried on. His limp was less pronounced today but his footsteps slowed as he approached a paneled door at the end of the corridor. As he opened it, he recoiled slightly before going in. “Can we get this over with?” he said shortly.
“Sure.” Curious to see what might have stalled him, Viv followed, stopping at the doorway. It was exactly Linda’s kind of bedroom. Restrained ostentation in gold, cream and eggshell-blue with ornately carved French reproduction furniture. Ross was at the window, sweeping aside the cream, brushed satin curtains to open it. It must have been the lingering scent of Linda’s perfume—expensive, heavy, floral—that he’d reacted to. Being here was hard for him, harder than Viv had appreciated.
In that case, they’d do this quickly.
The wardrobe ran the length of one wall. Opening the sliding door she cast a professional eye over the clothes, immaculately organized—by season as well as color—with shoes neatly stacked in clear storage boxes. “What would suit her?” she mused aloud.
“A witch’s hat and broom?” Ross pushed aside the curtain and took another breath of fresh air. “God, it’s good to say that.”
“How are you doing,” she asked. “With the pretending?”
Ross shrugged. I’m not comfortable with it, but hell, what choice do I have?” Every time he was distracted he unconsciously massaged his leg.
He saw the direction of her gaze and straightened.
“How’s the rehab going?” she asked to cover the awkward moment.
“Great.”
“Dan said you’ve been helping out with trainees,” Vivpersisted. Okay, she still asked her brother about his former troop mate, she couldn’t help it. “Is that something you’ll be doing more of when you go back?”
Ross stared at her. “Is that what Dan suggested?” he asked slowly.
“He mentioned it was an option.”
“Did he?”
The hair on the back of her neck rose at his tone. “Did I get that wrong? He just said it might be something you’d consider.”
A moment passed, he suddenly put up a hand to rub his forehead, shielding his eyes. “No…he’d never do that to me,” he muttered.
“Do what?”
“Nothing. Go ahead, choose something.”
Baffled, she returned her attention to the wardrobe, flicking through the hangers. “Aqua seems to be Linda’s favorite color.”
“Yeah, I remember her in a lot of bluey-green.”
Taking that as a direction, Viv chose a simple belted dress patterned in swirls of mariner-blue and seafoam-green and laid it on the bed.
Ross looked at it strangely. “She wore that at Dad’s funeral.”
Viv picked it up. “I’m sorry, I’ll change it.”
“No.” He turned back to the window. “She wore it because it was his favorite. It’s probably appropriate.”
She could see the tension across his shoulders, like a rubber band pulled tight. “Can I ask you a question…about the day she died? Why were you visiting a woman you disliked so much?”
He didn’t turn around. “She had something of my mother’s I wanted.”
“What was it?”
“The artwork she was taking down when she fell.”
“Oh,” she said, then the significance hit her. “Ohhh! But that doesn’t make her fall your fault. You know that, right?”
He faced her with folded arms. “We done here?”
“No, we need shoes.”
“The funeral director said they were optional.”
“She has to wear shoes,” she said sharply. She couldn’t forget Linda in her stocking feet, water pooling under her heels, wicking up her trousers. Suddenly afraid she was going to cry, Viv smoothed out the creases in the skirt.
Behind her she heard Ross move to the wardrobe. He
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