Page 19 of The Last Letter of Rachel Ellsworth

“Not necessarily, but it would be good to have some background. History of the place, who owned it first, how it started, why she chose the particular places she wanted to write about.”

“And you downloaded some of her other books, right?”

“Yes.” Veronica picked up the pastry and took another bite, which technically took her over the halfway mark. Fruit spilled into her mouth, slightly spiced with something, and she closed her eyes to see if she could figure out what it was. Nutmeg? No, maybe allspice.

So good.

Spying someone in the crowd, Mariah waved vigorously. “There’s Henry.”

The man was well over six feet tall, with darkly tanned skin and salt-and-pepper hair grown a bit too long. Veronica would not have called him skinny, though. Rangy, long limbed.

Mariah leaped up and greeted him with a little cry. He wrapped her in a bear hug. They clung to each other for a long moment, and Veronica noted the tears on Mariah’s face. This was someone important.

In a gravelly voice, Henry said, “How’re you holding up?”

“It’s only been three weeks since you’ve seen me,” Mariah said wryly. She gestured toward Veronica. “This is my assistant. She was asking me about the background of the places we’re shooting.”

His attention shifted. Without expression he held out a big hand. No jewelry, no watch. “Henry Spinuzza,” he said. His voice was intensely deep, resonant, and his face showed the years he’d spent in the elements—creases around his eyes, cheeks weathered.

“Veronica Barrington. Nice to meet you.”

“You’re not what I was expecting in a companion,” he said, gaze direct.

“Yeah. I get that.” But she didn’t know what else to add.

“Are you ready?” His accent was New Jersey, softened but still distinct. “We should have a window after the morning traffic.”

Mariah allowed herself to be helped up, but she swayed a little unsteadily. He grasped her elbow and glanced toward Veronica, eyebrows up in a question. Veronica nodded.

Mariah reached back and grabbed the rest of the Danish. “You’re not going to eat this, right?”

“No. Go ahead.”

She did, wiping her fingers quickly on the last of the napkins.

In addition to having Mariah lean on him, Henry dragged one of the bags, which freed Veronica to look around. She took in the various languages and accents, so many different kinds of people. A young woman in a bright-pink hijab spoke a quick lyrical language into her phone. A straw-thin businessman in a blue suit and pointed shoes huffed around her. Men with placards, looking as serious as bodyguards,stood near the exit doors. She peered into kiosks and saw candy she’d never heard of lined up in rows, and made a mental note to try them, and an advertisement for a biscuit she wasn’t sure was sweet or savory.

Outside, the air was wet and cold. Veronica was glad of her lightweight, very warm ski jacket, a piece of clothing that had cost half of her now-rent. It was totally worth it as they moved slowly for the sake of Mariah, who was also cloaked in a high-end puffer coat. At last they arrived at a midsize SUV-style car, black and ordinary. Or so she thought until she saw the Range Rover name on the tailgate.

Interesting. Her life did not usually include first-class flights or luxury vehicles.

Henry loaded the back with their bags. Veronica started to get into the back seat, but Mariah stopped her. “I need to lie down.”

“Of course.” She opened the front door, but of course the steering wheel was on the opposite side, and with an embarrassed chuckle, she rounded the car and got in. Mariah was already spread out in the back, her coat over her face. Veronica half grinned, thinking she’d be snoring any second.

Henry glanced over the seat and shook his head. “Pills?” he asked.

“Maybe? I think she has a flask, too.”

“I can hear you,” Mariah said. “Yes, to both.”

“Can you not kill yourself, please?” Henry said into the rearview mirror.

“I’m careful,” Mariah mumbled.

“That’s what they all say. And they’re just as dead.”

“Fine,” she said with a growl. “I’m not dead, though, so can you let me sleep off this hangover?”