“I’m glad to hear it,” she burst out. “I—that is, we—but mostly I—” she stopped, and collected herself. “That is, I really don’t mind about the coat—”

“Great.” I pushed against the shoe she’d inserted over the threshold.

“I’m just glad you’re all right. I realize we’re not supposed to know anything, about what you’re doing here, that is, but I couldn’t help overhearing—”

“What?” I said sharply.

“Nothing!” She looked alarmed, probably afraid that I’d rat her out to Gertie. “Merely that, I understand things of importance are happening, of grave importance, and that you… that the risks you’re taking… well, I just wanted to say, we’re all very grateful and proud—”

“Yeah, you’re welcome.” I tried to shut the door again, but again, it went nowhere.

Damn, she must have arches of steel.

“—and I was wondering—”

“What?”

“—if you could, perhaps?” She held something out.

I looked at it. It appeared to be a small book. I shifted some stuff around in my arms and took it.

There was nothing in it except for blank pages, like a diary or something. I didn’t get it. Then I looked up and found her holding out a pen.

Gray eyes gazed into mine hopefully. “If you could sign to my good friend Iris…?”

I stared at her in disbelief.

Oh, my God.

I had a groupie.

I took the pen and scribbled something, I’m not even sure what, thrust it back at her and finally got the door closed. I waited to hear her footsteps walk away, but the thick old oak muffled sound too well and she’d had on soft little slippers. I couldn’t tell if she’d left, or if she was waiting outside the door like some sort of glamorous stalker.

After a moment, I started to feel ridiculous. I found the smallest towel in the bunch and draped it around the door knob, knotting it so that it would stay. It covered the keyhole, and the door was so well fitted that there were no cracks around the jamb.

I stood back to survey my handiwork, and decided it would do. Screw you, Grace, I thought. Screw everything about today.

Including my bathwater, which had gone tepid, damn it!

I’d intended to soak up whatever heat was left, only to discover that there wasn’t any. I stood by the bath, clutching my armful of towels and feeling cheated. But I didn’t turn the heating element back on. I’d already tried my luck twice; three times was just asking for trouble. I let out the water instead, went over to the dressing table to put down all my stuff—and got a happy surprise.