His expression fell. “It’s nothing,” he said in a way that made me sure that it was. “It’s just . . . something I do.” He quickly moved on. “The next week, on the fourteenth, is the partners’ party. Then the week after that I have to fly to New York City to meet with one of our clients, so we won’t get together that week.” He looked up at me. “Unless you come to New York with me.”

I couldn’t tell if he was serious. “I’m afraid that would be out of my budget.”

“Travel expenses are in the contract.”

I looked at him. “You’re serious.” To tell the truth, the idea of going to New York at Christmas thrilled me. “Let’s see how things go.”

“That’s wise,” he replied.

“Then there’s nothing until Christmas Eve?”

“What are your plans for Christmas Eve?” he asked.

I was embarrassed to tell him that I hadn’t anything planned. “Nothing. Yet.”

“How about we have dinner?”

“That would be nice. Where?”

“I don’t know, we can decide that later. We have seven weeks.”

“And then we’re done,” I said.

He slowly nodded. “Exactly. The agreement is fulfilled, the contract is terminated.” He slid his calendar into his briefcase, then stood. “I better get back. I’ll see you tomorrow at lunch, then tomorrow evening for the play.”

“Thank you for lunch,” I said. I held up the calendar. “And for all this.”

“It’s my pleasure. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Me too.”

He looked into my eyes and said, “Elise.”

“Yes?”

“No more complaints about gifts. It’s been a long time since I’ve had anyone to give to, and I’m having a lot of fun. Don’t ruin it for me. Okay?”

I nodded and smiled. “If you insist.”

His serious expression gave way to a smile. “I insist. Have a good day.”

As he started to go I said, “Nicholas.”

He turned back. “Yes?”

“What kind of car do you drive?”

He looked puzzled. “Why?”

“Zoey wanted to know.”

He grinned mischievously. “Tell her it’s a very expensive one.” He blew me a kiss and walked off. As he disappeared from sight, I took out my scarf and put it around my neck. It had been a long time since I had felt that warm.

Chapter Seven

CHAPTER

Seven

Why is it that we so easily confide secrets to strangers that we so carefully hide from ourselves?

Elise Dutton’s Diary