The following weeks had only confirmed these first impressions. Barbs on the way he dresses, inappropriate allusions to heritage... Garrett intervened each time, without detour. "Eleanor is not a topic of debate. It's my wife. The tension did not dissipate.
Eleanor had also noticed Garrett's telephone aside-calls in his office, the documents he was hastily putting away, a certain "Whitfield" mentioned in a whisper. "I'm just making sure you're always protected," he'd tell her. She had not asked any questions. She should have.
An ordinary Tuesday that made everything collapse
An ordinary morning. Garrett put down his cup, grabbed his newspaper... and left. A lightning heart attack. At the cemetery, Margaret stared at Eleanor on the other side of the grave, her gaze as cold as stone.
