““Where were you?” she asked before he turned the knob. He paused, and she clarified: “I came to the cottage last week to find you, to tell you about Reading, but you weren’t there. Where were you?” He glanced back at her. “You’ll have to be more specific.” “Tuesday,” she said. “I searched for a hint . . . waited, but you never came. I left the note on your windowsill.” A small smile touched his lips—almost a sheepish smile, of all things. Ceony had never before seen such an expression on his face. “Just out for a stroll.””
