I thought Charles would ignore my message.
After all, he had no reason to reply.
The message had been polite enough to be impossible to accuse, distant enough to be impossible to soften, and proper enough to belong entirely between an employee and her employer.
I’ll be visiting Mr Yale at the mountain residence the day after tomorrow. If you are free, please stop by.
No Mia.
No Charles.
No explanation.
Only business.
Exactly the kind of message he had taught me how to write.
So when I stepped downstairs that morning and saw him leaning against a black car, I paused for half a second.
Charles was smoking.
The early spring air still carried a faint chill. Grey clouds pressed low over the city, and the pavement outside my apartment building was damp from last night’s rain. He stood
