Ian stood flat against the wall, hidden behind the opened door. If Solomon took only a few more steps, he would find him.
Abigail tried to distract her husband, doing whatever she could to keep him away from the bedroom. Once their discussion degraded to an argument, she stormed down the stairs. Solomon meekly followed, his footsteps echoing off the hardwood floor.
When Ian was sure they were gone, he stepped into the hallway and peeked into the foyer below.
“Maybe if you show me where you want to put the chest, and how it matches the wardrobe, I’ll understand the need,” Solomon said.
“Not now,” Abigail replied. “I’ve no desire to keep arguing about it.”
“But we’re not arguing,” he protested. “I only questioned the cost.”
Ian stepped back into Abigail’s bedroom. They might come back.
