(Author's POV)
Aurora had been back in her room for less than ten minutes when the front door opened.
Phineas turned, half-expecting her to have changed her mind.
It wasn't Aurora.
Eleanor Everett stepped into the entryway, removing her coat with the unhurried efficiency of a woman who had never needed to knock. She was in a slate-grey wrap dress, her silver hair perfectly set, and her eyes moved through the apartment the moment she crossed the threshold.
They landed on the coffee table first. Two champagne flutes, both used, set side by side.
Then they dropped to the shoe rack by the door, where a pair of pink suede slippers sat neatly on the lower shelf.
Eleanor's expression did not change, but something behind her eyes sharpened considerably.
"Phineas," she said pleasantly. "Is
