Chapter 14

“Hello?”

Helen cursed. Every time the door opened, her traitorous heart flipped, thinking it might be Henry. But it never was. Yesterday it was Lindsey, bringing her a pile of brownies that were delicious, not that she told Lindsey so. No, Helen had stayed hidden in her bedroom with the door closed while Lindsey talked to her dogs and promised to call later.

Not that Helen picked up the phone.

This time it was Grace, and Helen had made the mistake of emerging from her bedroom to stare at the living room walls for a change, because staring at the bedroom walls reminded her of Henry and that was not helping her at all.

“I’ve come bearing wine,” Grace said, then tutted when she saw Helen.

“What, you’ve never seen sweatpants before?”

“There’s no need to be nasty,” Grace said. “Not when I’ve got wine. And Gloria Gaynor.” Grace pulled a CD out of her purse. “Now put on your disco dress and let’s do this right.”

“What are you talking about.” Helen didn’t even bother to make it a question. Of course Grace knew. If Lindsey knew, Grace knew. Grace was probably the one who’d told Lindsey.

“Mary Beth told me Henry brought something to the committee, and now they’re thinking about redoing the plan for the brothel.”

“I know.” Helen had gone to work yesterday morning and heard the news. Lou kept staring daggers at her, as if it was Helen’s fault that Henry had found the diary.

Well, it sort of was, but it had been an accident. She just didn’t have the heart to try to explain another unintentional mistake to someone who wouldn’t listen.

Besides, she couldn’t begrudge Henry his success.

She’d gone home after lunch and locked herself in her bedroom.

Until she started thinking about the walls.

“Henry said you were instrumental in tracking down the information.”

Helen scoffed. She’d hardly tracked it down.

“He said he tried to call.”

Helen shrugged. He knew where her house was. He knew how to get in. Hell, George and Tammy would probably figure out a way to unlock the door for him.

“This must really be serious if you’re wallowing without disco music.”

Helen glared at Grace and reached for the wine bottle.

“Do you want a glass?”

Helen peeled the wrapper off the cork.

“Well, you at least need an opener, unless you plan on biting the cork off.”

Helen considered it.

Grace sighed and went into the kitchen, mumbling something about stubbornness and stupidity.

Helen heard the door open again, and she cursed again. What was this, Sad Grand Central Station?

Then George and Tammy sprinted down the hall, whining and barking and tripping over their ears.

Oh god.

“I called him,” Grace said, emerging from the kitchen with a corkscrew. “I’ll just let myself out the back.” She took the bottle of wine from Helen—which was very unsporting of her—and left her alone to deal with the man Helen didn’t want to admit had broken her heart.

So Helen did what any mature woman who no longer kept secrets did.

She jumped off the couch and locked herself in the bathroom.