Her forehead had finally unknotted. Zelda stared at her husband until he answered, and was uncomfortably aware that she was staring. She was too tired to handle this gracefully. A part of her wished she'd asked Alfred to put the conversation off longer, put it off forever.

"You were closer than good friends," she pointed out, tone a little flatter than usual. Zelda reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Jo and Alfred had talked about everything. Maybe that wasn't what he'd meant, but that was what she could think of — they'd talked about everything, and their conversations were impenetrable to Zelda.

She sighed and tapped a finger against the counter. "She came to visit a year ago, with the baby," Zelda said, "Just to see someone. We had tea and she told me she didn't need any help."

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