Gerard shook his head. “She did. But she’s back now.”
As if on cue, I noticed a woman’s legs descend a set of outside stairs in the garden. A pair of knee-high, flat-soled riding boots, tan jodhpurs with a tied off rope for a belt and a blue, long-sleeved button down shirt almost completed the picture. Not until she reached the ground did I get a good look at her face. Beautiful. And severe. Voluptuous lips pressed tight together, hair pulled back tight in a small knot at the base of her neck, a ramrod, upright walk. She squeezed the banisters and her hands turned pale. With deliberate steps she came straight on and entered the office through the sliding glass door. She nodded once in greeting at Gerard, then her gaze fell on me. Maura appeared startled, as if she almost recognized me fro
