"Did he say anything? If he was here for an hour, he must have said something to you." Tanya's exasperation began to show. She put her fork down and looked directly at Edda. "What did he want?"
"He asked a lot of questions. He asked about you, about me, about Charles. I gave him the story we all agreed upon. That we're your guardians."
"Anything else?" Tanya was on her feet, her hands grasping the table top. She regretted going with Charles to the police 1q23.
Edda lifted her wine glass and sipped. She sighed, then turned to Tanya. "He asked questions about the house, what the room with all the windows was. He wanted to see more. I showed him the reception room." She took another sip of wine. "He was very interested in the art work."
"I'm sure he was. He's involved in the art world, too."
Edda put her glass down upon the table with such force the wine slopped over and stained the white table cloth. "You're creating a leak," she said. Charles nodded.
"He has good references. Malcolm said he does," Tanya said, then paused. She couldn't let them know how much she really knew about Kevin Matwin. "He lives in Toronto. What kind of ties could he have with a little town like Vermeil? He's been coming here long before I owned this house." She began to pace, anxious to calm the worries of her guardians.
Charles slapped his napkin down upon his plate. "Suit yourself," he said, then rose quickly and left the room.
"Did he say anything else?" Tanya asked, her voice a pleading whisper.
Edda seemed to take even longer to reply, her finger tracing circles in the small pool of wine. "Yes," she replied. "He'll be away until Wednesday night, late. He'll see you on Thursday."
Tanya slumped back on her bed, her stomach churning. She may have pushed Kevin too far, too fast. She hadn't seen him since Friday, and now she wouldn't see him until Thursday. Her strategy had been a fiasco. And it was all her own fault. She hid her face in her pillows and moaned. What would she say on Thursday? What would he say to her? She felt vaguely embarrassed by her own actions. How could she have said those things to him? What must he think of her?
If only he came to take her for a walk in the hills on Thursday, and not mention the 'experiment'… She would be completely happy, and never make a little fool of herself again. Then she immediately began to daydream about his golden-tanned body, his smooth muscles, the feel of him close to her. She sighed, frustrated, and closed her eyes.