Chapter 5: Trash Bags

Goldie stepped in front of me before I could say a word.

"Sweetheart," she said to Delphine, "you're standing in her doorway in a shirt that isn't yours."

Delphine smiled at her.

"Hi, Goldie. You still smell like mothballs."

"And you still borrow things you don't give back."

Delphine leaned on the door frame and looked down at the bags.

"Des asked me to help clear out. He wants a fresh start. I'm being useful."

"Where is he?" I said.

"On his way. Take whatever you want." She nudged the split bag with her bare toe. "It's mostly turtlenecks."

I picked my gray cardigan up off the carpet and folded it over my arm.

"I need my papers. They're in the study."

"Help yourself. It's not like I'd know where anything is."

She stepped back to let me in.

The penthouse smelled like her vanilla perfume now. Two wineglasses sat on the kitchen island.

The untempted tycoon didn't drink.

One of the glasses had a lipstick print.

I walked past it.

Delphine followed me down the hall, slow, trailing her fingertips along the wall.

Goldie followed her.

"You know what's funny?" Delphine said.

"Nothing about you," said Goldie.

Delphine ignored her. She was looking at me.

"Everyone at school said you'd be the one. Romy Tilney, the voice, the face. They said it in front of me like I wasn't standing there."

"That was ten years ago, Delphine."

"I know." She smiled. It was a sweet, soft smile. Her TV smile. "And look at you now."

She tipped her head at my left shoulder.

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