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“Tr-truly?” Emily stammered, her mouth dry, her lips stiff. “Fine. I’m fine. Honest, Dad.”
Joe sat forward, rested his elbows on the top of the desk, his gaze never leaving her face. “Really. So you’ve been to town, shopping? Gone to see a movie with friends? Even talked to any of your friends? To Liza?”
Emily turned her head away, bit the inside of her cheek. “Liza’s busy in Saratoga, Dad, with Nick and the baby. We’ve talked, and we e-mail each other, but—”
“Liza tells me you haven’t answered any of her e-mails, and that each time she phones you’re not available. Liza’s a continent away, Emily, and worried sick about you. Don’t do this to her.”
Emily mentally hefted a shovel and began digging that hole she wanted to climb into. “I’m sorry, Dad. It’s just—it’s just that I’m not really good company right now. Liza would be on a plane in ten seconds, and that’s not fair, either. I’ll write to her this afternoon. I promise.”
“Uh-huh.”
Okay, the hole was about to get deeper. Joe’s last “Uh-huh” warned Emily of that. “There’s something else?” she asked, trying not to wince.
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