He stopped when he saw Marjorie sitting upright.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
His tone was still soft, but the warmth I had once heard in it was gone.
“I was thirsty,” Marjorie answered.
“There’s water on your table.”
Owen crossed the room and lifted the untouched glass. Then he noticed the paper in her hand.
“Give me that.”
Marjorie held it against her chest.
“No.”
His expression hardened.
“Marjorie.”
I stepped out from behind the door. “She said no.”
Owen spun around.
For the first time since I had met him, he looked truly shaken.
“What are you doing in this house?” he demanded.
“I have a key.”
“You need to leave.”
“So do you.”
His face changed then. The polite neighbor vanished, and something sharp took his place.
“You have no idea what is going on.”
“Then explain it.”
Marjorie began crying quietly.
Owen looked at her, and his anger seemed to drain away.
