“You can’t hide him.”

“He is not yours.” Odette’s voice came out flat and vicious, a register Hattie had never heard from the gentle houseguest who portioned out Rosalind’s pills.

“Do you understand me?

He is not yours.

Leave us alone.”

And she shut the door in his face.

She stood there a moment with her back against it, breathing hard, and then she turned and found Hattie still holding the broom, having heard all of it.

Something moved across Odette’s face — the calculation of how much had been overheard, and what it would cost her.