“We need to talk.” Hudson cringed as he heard himself say it. It was so melodramatic. He imagined Norma Shearer saying it to one of her movie husbands. Chester Morris, maybe, in The Divorcee.

“Where have you been?” Ben asked, looking at him from behind the desk. “You haven’t returned any of my calls.”

Okay, now it’s turning into Imitation of Life, Hudson thought. He shut the door to Ben’s office and walked toward him, taking a seat in one of the chairs. Ben, he thought, looked terrible, as if he hadn’t slept in a couple of nights.

“Caddie said there was an emergency with the house,” Ben said cryptically. “Is everything all right?”

“The house,” Hudson repeated, not quite understanding. Then he realized that Caddie must have made up some story to explain his premature departure. “It’s fine,” he said. “Everything’s fine there.”

“Then why—” Ben began.

“I left because of something Caddie said,” Hudson said.

Ben looked confused. “What did she say?” he asked, clearly unable to imagine anything his daughter could say that would make Hudson upset enough to leave and not call for almost a week.

Hudson moved uncomfortably in his chair. “This probably isn’t the best place to talk about this,” he said. “I thought maybe we could go somewhere else.”

Before Ben could answer, his door opened and Angela popped her head in. Seeing Hudson, she smiled brightly. “Hey, stranger,” she said.

Hudson smiled back, wishing she would go away. Instead, she looked at Ben. “I compiled the data you wanted for your report,” she said. “Do you need me to do anything else?”

“No,” Ben said. “I’ll handle the rest. Thanks.”

Angela looked once more at Hudson. “We should do dinner again sometime,” she said.

“Sure,” Hudson agreed. “That would be fun.” He mentally pushed her out the door. A moment later, she actually went.

“I don’t have a lot of time,” said Ben.

Hudson started to get up. “This was a bad idea,” he said. “I should have waited. How about we talk tonight?”

Ben motioned for him to sit. “If Caddie said something, I want to know what it is,” he said. He hesitated. “It wasn’t something about you being gay, was it? Because I never told her—”

“It wasn’t about me,” said Hudson. “It was about you ... and me,” he added.

Ben shook his head. “What about us?” he said. “Is she jealous that we’re spending time together?”

“That’s part of it,” Hudson said. “But it’s more than that.” He paused, half hoping that Angela would come in again and save him from having to continue. But she didn’t, and Ben was looking at him, waiting. “She thinks there’s something between us,” he said finally.

“Between us?” Ben said. He leaned back in his chair. “Between us,” he repeated, but his voice had taken on a different tone. “You mean she thinks ...”