As soon as they were inside, Caroline said, "I hope you don't mind coming in through the back, Mr. Hanley. We're informal around here and rarely use the front door." She sounded a bit breathless, like she had when she first shook hands with him at Mabel's Tearoom. "Berry, this is Dodge Hanley."
Berry removed her sunglasses, setting them and her purse on the kitchen table, then reaching across it to shake hands with him. "Hello."
He took her hand, touching her flesh for the first time. "Hi." For several seconds, that was all he could manage to articulate. Then he muttered, "Call me Dodge."
Still using that overly chipper voice, Caroline said, "How about some iced tea?"
Berry was still staring at him, taking his measure. Absently she said, "Sounds good."
He said, "Fine."
Caroline suggested they go into the living room and make themselves comfortable while she got the tea ready.
"This way," Berry said, disappearing through an open doorway.
Dodge shot Caroline a perturbed glance. She whispered, "Go on. It's fine."
He followed the younger woman from the kitchen, and when he reached the living area, she got directly to the point. "Mother tells me that you're a private investigator."
So, to some extent, Caroline had decided to be truthful. Truth was always helpful when you had to lie. "That's right."
"I've never actually met one before."
"It's not like on TV."
"How is it different?"
"Well, I've never had to leap off a tall building to avoid being shot, or been trapped by a bad guy in a dark, dead-end alley. Mostly I chase paper, not people."
She smiled like she didn't know whether or not to believe him. "You're from Atlanta?"
"I live there now. I work for an attorney. A defense lawyer. The best. Or worst," he added. "Depending on which side you're on."
"He's tough?"
"The toughest. I overheard an assistant DA accuse Derek of sprinkling ground glass over his Cheerios every morning."
She smiled again, but it quickly inverted into a frown. She went to a wall switch and turned on the overhead fan. "Mother had professional cleaners come in this morning. I can smell the solution they used. Can you?"
"No. My sense of smell is shot. Too much smoking."
"I tried it in high school. One cigarette, mind you. But Mother caught me. Those days, I was certain she had superpowers, eyes in the back of her head, amplified hearing. Anyway, she and Daddy had a fit, grounded me for two weeks and, worse, took away my phone for a month. I never lit up again."
He smiled, but an arrow went through his heart at the mention of "Daddy." "Good. That's good. It's a nasty habit."
She held his gaze for a long time, then motioned him toward a rocking chair. "I'm sorry. I'm forgetting my manners today. Have a seat."
She claimed a corner of the sofa just as Caroline came in with a tray bearing three tall glasses of iced tea. She set the tray on the coffee table.
Berry looked at it and murmured, "Our wineglasses."
Dodge took the glass of tea that Caroline passed him. Although there was a sugar bowl and spoons on the tray, Caroline didn't offer him any because she knew that, while he preferred his coffee with two spoonfuls, he drank his tea unsweetened. He wondered if Berry had noticed. She hadn't; she was still staring thoughtfully at the tray.
"What was that, dear?" Caroline asked as she spooned sugar into a glass before handing it to Berry.
Berry took the glass, sipped from it, then seemed to come out of her momentary trance. "Nothing."
She looked across at Dodge, who was trying to sit still in the rocker, because each time he moved, the cane seat squeaked. More like groaned.