The old woman''s appetite had improved a lot; she even finished another half bowl


    of soup.


    The small pot of soup Elodie had simmered was nearly gone.


    Even Jarrod had helped himself to more than a little.


    Elodie wasn''t surprised-he''d always appreciated her cooking.


    After dinner, Jarrod stepped outside to take a call.


    Elodie waited a few minutes, then followed him out.


    She found him under the porch, smoking. Pulling her coat tighter around herself, she walked over. "Do you have a moment?"


    She wanted to talk to him about attending her mother''s memorial.


    When he saw hering, Jarrod shifted his cigarette away, then stubbed it out.


    "How long have you been out here?" His gaze was sharp, scrutinizing.


    Elodie realized what he meant he probably thought she''d overheard his conversation. Was it Sylvie on the line?


    "Just now. Right after you hung up," she replied coolly, her chest rising and falling with the chill.


    Finally, Jarrod nced up at her, slipping one hand into his pocket. His tone was casual, almost detached. "I was drunk that night."


    Elodie blinked, not following at first.


    A slight smirk curled his lips. He spoke slowly, almostzily. "I trust you won''t make a fuss about what happened between us, will you?"


    Her mind buzzed, and suddenly she understood—he was referring to that night their rtionship had crossed a line.


    A surge of cold crept down her spine; for a moment, she was stunned, almost incredulous.


    He was warning her not to stir up trouble between him and Sylvie, not to let that night be ammunition.


    "That was a mistake for both of us, Mr. Silverstein. You don''t need to worry," Elodie replied, meeting his eyes. Her tone left no room for doubt.


    They could both rest easy.


    Jarrod held her gaze for a moment longer; in the chilly night air, his expression seemed even more aloof.


    After a beat, he looked away. "Alright."


    Without another word, he turned and strode off.


    Elodie hurried to call after him, "On the 24th, do you have time? I was hoping you coulde for my mother''s anniversary-"


    "Check with Keith about my schedule. Get some rest. I have things to do tonight," he interrupted, barely ncing back before disappearing down the path.


    He didn''t even wait for her to finish her sentence.


    But Elodie felt nothing-no anger, no disappointment.


    She''d been through this too many times over the past three years.


    Every year on her mother''s memorial, Jarrod never showed. He was always too busy with work or suddenly out of town. Even when she''d pleaded for just half an hour, he''d never agreed.


    When your needs are ignored enough times, your heart inevitably grows cold. But this year was different.


    Her grandmother and the rest of the family were taking this third anniversary seriously. Skipping an ordinary memorial was one thing, but if he missed this formal gathering, the truth about their broken marriage couldn''t be hidden much longer.


    Unless-


    Unless Jarrod was willing to meet her grandmother before the anniversary and exin, face to face, that they were divorcing amicably.


    But he was always busy, always elsewhere. She doubted he''d agree.


    Elodie''s heart returned to its familiar, still calm.


    In the end, she was nothing more than a business partner, needing to schedule


    an appointment in advance. Whether he showed up depended entirely on his mood.


    She was nothing like Sylvie.


    If Sylvie needed something, Jarrod would remember. No matter how busy he was,


    he''d find a way-no discussion necessary.


    Elodie didn''t care where he went that night.


    The answer was obvious.


    Jarrod didn''t stay the night, so at least she didn''t have to share a bed with him. She settled into the guest room, grateful she wouldn''t have to drive homete.


    The next day, Jarrod still hadn''t returned.


    Elodie didn''t linger. She drove back to VistaLink Technologies.


    Esmeralda seemed much better today, though her voice was still a bit hoarse.


    As soon as she saw Elodie, she frowned and said, "I just got back from the hospital. Spent the night there. I even saw Jarrod show upst night-turns out Sylvie''s mother was sick. Jarrod is ying the dutiful son-inw, isn''t he?"


    Elodie''s hand paused over her pen.


    She had asked Jarrod so politely yesterday-he''d refused to make time for her.


    But when it came to Sylvie''s mother, he was there in a heartbeat.


    He never tried to hide this tant favoritism.


    Especially considering the person in question was Selma-


    Elodie pressed her lips together and finally exhaled.


    She let all those trivial, soon-to-be-irrelevant details drift away.


    Instead, she turned to Esmeralda. "Do you know if there''s anywhere in Eldermere


    that collects or sells modern art?"