Walls of Jericho. Lynn Bulock
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St. Louis. But she was my business appointment the other morning, when you ended up taking Laurel and Jeremy to the airport.”
“Oh.” She sounded like a broken record, but she felt stunned. “What kind of business were you discussing with Marcy McKinnon?”
There was a long pause on Ben’s end of the line. She could hear somebody ringing up a sale on the cash register, then the rattle of plastic bags as a purchase was handed over. It seemed like forever, and he still hadn’t answered.
Finally he cleared his throat. It was still a moment before he spoke. “I can’t tell you what I was discussing with her.”
“Not at all?”
She could almost feel him shaking his head in that slow, solid way he had.
“Not at all. Just put the papers on my desk in the living room, okay?”
Like a good little wife, his tone seemed to say. “I guess. Does this mean we’ll discuss this when you get home?”
She could tell that he was trying to sound light, but his voice sounded strained. “Afraid not. This isn’t something I can discuss with you. Not for the present, at least. But it isn’t anything to worry about. I’ll see you at dinner.”
With that the phone went dead. And Claire was standing in the middle of the bedroom holding a strange woman’s business card and feeling more confused than she had in years.
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