Chapter 8“All right. What did you lose this time?”
Joe had burst into the living room to find Anne, sitting in their bentwood rocker, waiting for him. Although there was a calmness (a deadness of tone, actually) in her voice and her features betrayed not even the slightest emotion, Joe could tell at a glance her cool was a facade. She was a pot about to boil over.
He stared at her for a full minute without saying anything. Her modeling assignments often took her into the late evening hours. Joe had assumed, since this assignment was one of her biggest, he would not be seeing Anne until after dinner at the very earliest. Yet here it was not even two thirty in the afternoon and she was home.
He shouldn’t have asked (because it said much about his guilt), but he did: “I thought you were mo
