She was worried. By nature, she hated lying, even by omission. Yet she owed Ryan confidentiality and couldn’t tell Lily where the two of them had been last night. She wished Ryan would tell his wife about his symptoms and that Peter was going to have an MRI arranged. Peter. Shaking her head, as if that could rid her thoughts of the neurosurgeon, Violet walked through the arched entryway and opened the wrought-iron gate. A curved stone walkway led through the outer courtyard where native plants and rocks were arranged in a miniature arroyo. Flowering vines perfumed the area as she mounted the steps that led to a wide wooden door in the covered entryway. At her knock, Rosita Perez opened the door. Pleasantly plump, dressed in a peasant blouse and a long gauzy skirt, she patted her bun as if to make certain it was still there, then smiled. “You’re right on time. Lanie Meyers isn’t here yet. Traffic from Austin could be keeping her. But Mr. Ryan and Lily are waiting in the inner courtyard.
