69I hurried upstairs to my bedroom.
Stashed my bag in the closet. Kicked off my pumps.
Changed into my comfortable old Levis, long-sleeve charcoal T-shirt, and my nonslip skater girl shoes.
Tucked my phone into a roomy front pocket in the jeans.
When I stepped back into the hall, the door to Vicky’s room stood open.
I spotted Marina inside, a dress on a hanger draped over one arm. She vanished into the walk-in closet. Reappeared and joined me in the hall.
“Tom move out,” she told me. “I move in. All set tonight.”
“You didn’t bring much.”
“I not stay long.” She lowered her voice. “Tom took everything. You right. He not happy in Vicky’s room. Too teenager. He young for his age. But not sixteen-year-old girl-young.”
I smiled. “More like thirty-eight-year-old woman-young, you think?”
