Page 90 of The Last Letter of Rachel Ellsworth

He nodded. “In some ways.”

“Important, too.”

“I hope it was.”

Nibbling the edge of a slice of grapefruit, she said, “I read the new crop of Rachel’s letters. She clearly fell in love while she was in India. Did she ever talk about that?”

“No. She didn’t really talk about her past.”

For a moment, Veronica measured him. “Maybe I’m naive but that seems like something you eventually share with your lover, right?”

“It does.”

“Was she hiding something, maybe?”

He tipped his head in consideration. The cat’s tail swung around his neck, and he reached up to give her a scratch. “Maybe.”

“Maybe you should read the letters. Maybe you’ll see something I haven’t.”

He looked away for a moment. Frowned. Then a nod. “All right.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Do I strike you as someone who says yes when he means no?”

She raised her brows. “No. Give me your address.” She opened her email, tucked a bite of date into her mouth, and nodded, hands ready. She typed in his email, clicked on the first set of letters, forwarded, then the second and third. “Done.”

Mariah stumbled out of Veronica’s room, her hair a tangle. “I’m going to my room,” she said. “I think I have food poisoning.”

“Oh no!” Veronica leaped to her feet. “What can we do for you?”

Mariah’s face was the soft green of a snake’s belly. She waved them off. “Nothing. Nothing. Leave me alone. Urk. I can’t talk.” She ran into her room and slammed the door.

Veronica looked after her, worried. “Should we do something?”

“She told you what she wants.”

“But—” Veronica thought of one of her kids and how she would react.

She would hover. She always hovered.

Maybe she could learn something new. “I guess she did.”

“I’ll check on her in an hour or so, but she’s been through this before.” He looked at her. “Why don’t you get dressed? I’ll make sure she has what she needs, and we can go explore.”

“Okay.”

He stood, loose limbed and easy in his body. She liked the silver bracelet he wore around one strong wrist, his big hands. When he saw her watching, he raised an eyebrow. “Something on your mind?”

“So many things,” she said.

An arrow of sunlight warmed the air between them, the silence full of possibility.

“I’ll get ready.”

Chapter Forty-One

It was a cool, cloudy day. Henry and Veronica wandered, turning into this alleyway and that, admiring jewelry and fine leather and home goods. They talked to many cats and once, got caught in a minor traffic jam when a wagon with a wide load of wooden furniture had to navigate a congested turn. More than once, they had to squeeze against a wall to allow a motorcycle to whizz by.