“Grant was married. He wasn’t going to leave his wife and I wasn’t going to leave my husband. I was a widow a year later, but Grant had already moved on by then.”

“So all those years went by and you had nothing going on?”

“That’s right.”

“But then you reconnected. We ended up hiring Grant to defend Jeremy.”

Madeline sighed. “His wife passed away six years ago. We . . . rekindled something.”

“Is it still going on?’”

“What business would it be of yours one way or another?” Madeline asked.

Gloria shrugged. “You like to know my business. I like to know yours.”

“You’ve had too much to drink, Gloria. I’m turning in.”

Bob walked into the kitchen, sport jacket on, face flushed with what looked like anger. He looked directly at Gloria.

“What?” she said, setting down her glass.

“Where is it?”

“Where is what?” she said.

“It’s my own damn fault,” Bob said, shaking his head. “I should have known better. I’m a goddamn idiot.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Gloria said.

Madeline, who had put her departure on hold, looked at Bob. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“The phone,” he said. “Her phone.”

Madeline put eyes on her niece. “What did you do?”

“I have done nothing,” Gloria said, raising her chin.

“The phone was in my jacket,” he said. “I took it off and left it on the back of that chair this afternoon. I put it back on later, and I didn’t even think about it until just now.” He patted the left side of his chest. “It was in this pocket, and now it’s gone.”

“Maybe it slipped out when you were fixing the window,” Gloria said.

“You grabbed it back,” he said. “Weaver made a lot of sense when he said we should take it out of your hands. You can’t be trusted not to go on there and say something stupid.”

Gloria took another gulp of wine, then set the glass back down so hard the stem snapped. The glass toppled and spilled red wine across the island.

“For God’s sake,” Madeline said.

“You want to search me?” Gloria said, taking a step into the middle of the room, arms outstretched. “You want to frisk me? Is that what you’d like to do?”

He stood and gawked at her. “Seriously?”

“A strip search? Is that what you want? Why not? Let me oblige.”

She crossed her arms, grabbed hold of the bottom of her pullover sweater with both hands, and pulled up.

“This is ridiculous,” Madeline said.

Gloria’s head was briefly obscured by the sweater, then it was off her body completely, leaving her standing there in a white bra and slacks.

“Gloria, stop it,” Bob said.

She spun around once. “See anything? No? Okay, then.” She kicked off her shoes, unzipped her slacks, and dropped them to the floor.