he house looks . . . nice. Different,” I said.
“Yes. Well, Steven lost a lot of his furniture in the divorce. So we had to change the look a bit.” She reached for the tea caddy. “He lost things that had been in his family for generations. Of course she took everything she could.”
She flashed me a look, as if assessing whether she could consider me an ally.
“I haven’t spoken to Mrs. . . . Camilla since Christine . . .” I said, feeling oddly disloyal.
No. I—I went traveling for a bit, and now I’m working at an airport.”
“Oh! Good! British Airways, I hope?”
I felt my cheeks color.
“Management, is it?”
“I work in a bar. At the airport.”
He hesitated, just a fraction of a second, and nodded, firmly. “People always need bars. Especially at airports. I always have a double whisky before
