A knock at the door.
He stopped mid-sentence and looked toward the entrance.
The knock came again.
He stood and went to the door, and I stayed at the table with my wine glass and listened.
The door opened and Camilla came in quickly,
I rolled my eyes at the interruption.
"They're trying to hurt me," she said. "The caregiver you sent — Vincent, she was going through my things. She had her phone out, she was taking photographs. I think she was sent by someone to—"
"Camilla." His voice was quiet. "This isn't a good time."
"What do you mean it's not—" She came around the corner from the entrance into the dining room and stopped.
Her eyes went to the table. The candles, the glasses, the two chairs pulled close. Then to me.
The expression that crossed her face was something I'd seen b
