Elizabeth caught up quickly. “Would you like to grab lunch together?” she asked, her voice awkward but sincere. “That Cornerstone café is nearby, isn’t it?” Gwen was taken aback; in two decades, Elizabeth had never invited her to anything remotely social. It was always business, always cold.
Gwen’s first instinct was suspicion. But the alternative—returning to a quiet, empty house—felt heavier than her doubts. She nodded. “Sure. Cornerstone’s fine.” As they walked together, Gwen tried to decipher the meaning behind the invitation. Was it grief, politeness, or something else? She decided not to question it—at least not yet.
The café was quiet, tucked away between shops. Gwen ordered soup while Elizabeth chose a sandwich. The conversation stumbled along at first: weather, errands, small talk. Gwen stirred her soup, waiting to see if this lunch had a deeper purpose.
Eventually, Elizabeth set down her sandwich. “The hotel I booked last night had bedbugs. I’ve called all around, but everything else is full or… let’s say, not ideal.” She hesitated, almost embarrassed. “Would it be alright if I stayed at your house for a few days?” Gwen was surprised by the request. The house had become her refuge, and the idea of opening it—especially to someone she couldn’t fully trust—felt uncomfortable.