11
Beside Iris, Jack had rolled up his sleeves and was standing with her in the circle of mess. On one wall in the back, where boxes had been stacked neatly, everything had been pulled down and dumped. In Raymond’s office, which she’d long since turned into her yoga and exercise room, with a stationary bike she’d used just once, she couldn’t step anywhere without kicking something.
She bent down and picked up art supplies scattered from their brand-new box, meant to be a gift for Alison for her upcoming birthday. What hurt more than anything was the fact that someone could come in and rip apart something that was so personal and special for her with no thought or care.
She still needed that shower, and then there was her hair. She hadn’t taken the time to search for her hairbrush in the
