The receiver clicked onto the cradle inside the study, followed by absolute silence.
I took three quick steps back toward the kitchen, my heart thumping against my ribs.
The door handle turned, and Richard stood in the frame, his eyes locking onto mine before I could turn the corner into the dining room.
“Do you need something, Mary?” he asked, his hand still resting on the brass knob of the door.
“No,” I said, looking down at the white towels in my arms. “I was just putting these away.”
He checked his gold watch again, his thumb rubbing the glass casing.
“I have several private client calls today,” he said, his voice dropping back into its usual cold cadence. “Keep the house quiet.”
“Of course,” I said.
“I do not want to be interrupted before lunch,” he said, then stepped back into the room and closed the door.
