“Did Grace come by your room?” she asked, her voice dropping its bright edge for a second.
“She was there a minute ago,” I said, holding the hot mugs. “She seemed a bit confused.”
Linda took a short, sharp breath and let her hand fall from her neck.
“Grace has her mornings,” she said, her bright smile returning like a mask. “She has always been that way, just give her five minutes.”
“She told me not to accept a blue box,” I said, watching Linda’s face.
Linda’s smile did not vanish, but it froze. She rubbed the back of her neck again, her fingers twitching slightly.
“She should not have said that to you,” Linda said, her voice quiet.
“What is in the box, Linda?” I asked.
“Just some family history, sweetheart,” she said, her tone suddenly light again. “Nothing for a new bride to worry about on her first morning.”
She took the mugs back from me and walked down the stairs, her steps quick and determined, leaving me alone in the hallway.
