“Leave the samples on the table, Clara,” Julian said, stepping between us.

“I’ll look them over tonight.”

Clara smiled, her eyes fixed on me while she set the paper swatches down beside the coat rack.

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning at nine at the main office, Julian,” she said softly.

She walked down the porch steps, her heels sharp on the concrete walk, without looking back at either of us.

Julian shut the heavy front door and turned the brass deadbolt with a quick flick of his wrist.

“Don’t start an argument in front of the boy,” he said, turning on his heel and heading back down the hallway to his office.