Her stomach told her she hadn't eaten since late morning, and that a sandwich—at least—was required. She was halfway through slathering on the mayo when she heard a rap on her door. She walked toward it. "Wade?" "It's David, Joy. I know it's late, but I need to talk to you about your mother and me." "Not the hotel?" Silence. "Okay—that, too. There is something you need to know. It'll only take a minute, but if you're busy, I can come back." For a few seconds she listened to the sound of rain being driven against her window by the gusting wind, not sure why she hesitated, but she did. The emptiness of the hotel, most likely—or the usual woman-afraid-of-the-dark syndrome. She considered both. Neither was life-threatening, nor was Grange—unless a woman wanted to be bored to death. She'd been handed an opportunity to dig into the relationship of the slick Mr. Grange and the sick Christian Rupert—she'd be crazy not to take it. She opened the door. David stepped in smiling, and she closed the door behind him.
