“I will, at that.”
The coffee started to percolate, and she fed two slices of bread through the toaster. I refused the toast but had two cups of coffee in the intimacy of the little living-room. Her eyes were studying me as she ate.
I said, “I’d like the truth, Claire.”
“I haven’t lied to you.”
“You told me you thought that young man was trying to sell your aunt some stock, or something.”
“I was afraid he might have been.”
“And that you were afraid he might be planning to marry her and cut himself a piece of cake.”
“I was.”
“But you didn’t part with two hundred dollars to find out about him just for that.”
She didn’t say anything.