“I’m sorry, but I don’t drink.”
“No?”
“I’ve had a problem.” She didn’t say more.
“Well then, I’ll get you some tea since I’d like a glass of wine myself.”
He left the room and Vicki to her thoughts. In the small interim, she gazed about her surroundings, squinting through the darkness to see what she’d missed on her first glance. Maybe it was the stone and the heavy wood that resonated with her so deeply. It was different, grey, but familiar in its essence. Could she possibly be thinking of Rutledge House?
The far door swung open, and Forrest Giles reappeared, his abrupt return wiping her mind clean of memories.
The tea was relaxing. She hoped it wasn’t spiked, but her level of trust was high enough to let that thought pass quickly from her mind.
They talked briefly about Tahoe,
