and tap it lightly on the table a couple of times, a feeble attempt at nonchalance.
“Did he mention where I was calling from?”
“No, he didn’t,” she says, clearly wondering why I’m in the dark.
“That was the day I started coming down with something, and the afternoon is a bit of a blur.”
She furrows her brow. “Maybe you should get checked out.”
“Oh, that doesn’t seem necessary. I’m totally on the mend now.”
I feel desperate to learn more, but my gut tells me Sasha’s shared the extent of what she knows, and besides, it wouldn’t be smart to pique her interest any further.
I rise and collect the espresso cups from the table and carry them to the counter. Sasha slips the last of her papers into her nylon Prada tote and rises from the table.
I lead her back to the foyer and retrieve her coat from the closet, and while I’m waiting for her to slip into it, I hear Hugh’s key turn in the lock. Sasha glances quickly toward the door, looking startled. Before I have time to say, “It’s my husband,” Hugh steps through the doorway, reeking of rotisserie chicken and loaded down with a briefcase and two plastic grocery bags. He seems taken aback by the sight of the two of us standing there.
“Hugh, hi,” I say. “This is Sasha Hyatt, the intern who’s been working with me on the podcasts.”
“Oh, right,” he says, dropping the briefcase at his feet so he can shake her hand. “Nice to meet you.”
Sasha spares him the head-to-toe assessment I’ve seen her give other men on a couple of occasions, but he’s definitely gained her attention. She evaluates Hugh’s face as if it’s a designer handbag she’s deciding whether to buy.
“Actually,” she says after a moment, “I think we’ve already met.”
Hugh narrows his eyes. “I’m sorry, but I’m drawing a blank.”
“Now I’m drawing a blank,” she admits. “But somewhere. I never forget a face.”
He shrugs neutrally. “Someone told me the other day that I look like the guy in the new Volvo commercial. Maybe that’s what you’re thinking of. Will you excuse me?”
“Of course,” she says as Hugh hurries with his bags and briefcase into the great room. Sasha appears mildly vexed, as if she senses my husband has charm to spare and she’s been cheated of her share.
“See you Tuesday at the studio,” I tell her, opening the door. “And thanks again for the goodies.”
“You’re welcome. Feel better.”
As soon as I ease the door shut, it seems as if this weird tension has been siphoned from the space along with her.
“Feel better?” Hugh says when I join him at the island. He’s unloading his purchases onto the counter.
“Yes, much,” I say, sliding onto one of the barstools.
“Glad to hear that, of course, but what I meant was why was Sasha saying that? You didn’t tell her what happened, did you?”
“God, no. But I had to explain being out of touch for a couple of days, so I said I’d been sick. Have you met her someplace?”
“No—at least not that I have any memory of. It almost seemed she was trying to be provocative.”
“Yeah, well, I’m beginning to sense that’s her MO.”
I notice his attention suddenly snagged by the bouquet on the table.
“What was she doing here, anyway?” he asks. “I thought you were going to take it easy today.”
“She was desperate to review some research with me before next week and basically invited herself over.”
“That’s annoying.” He glances down at the food on the counter. “I’m going to set all this up, but give me a minute to change, will you?”
“Sure. What can I do?”
“Nothing, just relax.”
But as soon as he heads down the hall to the bedroom, I call the front desk at WorkSpace. Carson’s shift must be ending around now, and I’m relieved when he picks up. I identify myself and ask if he remembers talking to me on Tuesday about my lost phone.
“Yes, did you find it?” he says.
“Unfortunately, not. Can I ask you a couple of questions, though? I was ill at the time and kind of discombobulated when we spoke.”
“I figured. You sounded pretty frazzled.”
Because I was beginning to separate from who I was?
“By any chance, do you remember the time of the call?”
“Uh, it must have been after lunch. Maybe around three, three-thirty?”
“And did I say where I was calling from?”
“No, but it sounded like you were on the street. You said you’d lost your phone somewhere and borrowed a stranger’s to make the call.”