He sighed, turned back to the kitchen, and made his way outside to the back deck where Porter was lighting the grill to start dinner. Porter turned when he stepped outside and took the plate of seasoned steaks, potatoes and vegetables from him. “Has she said anything to you yet?” “No.” Marsha hadn’t said much of anything since she read the letter she’d found in the box. They hadn’t pressured her. They let her have her space, let her fold the letter and shove it in her pocket without explanation. But the shock and sadness that had overtaken her expression when she read it made it hard as hell to keep their mouths shut. “She’s still in the shower.” They’d managed to convince her to stay with them for the night. It had been obvious she couldn’t stay in her apartment below the bar and insane for her to rent a hotel when they had an empty bedroom. Of course, if they got their way, the three of them would be occupying one bed tonight rather than sleeping in separate rooms.
