Stoking the fire gave her the opportunity to be alone, for a minute, and maybe this was better, for all that she tried to avoid it. Her hair felt damp where the snow had melted into it but her hands were starting to warm up now, and the redness had gone out of them. She could be — fine and normal through dinner, she was sure, especially now that she wasn't as cold, and maybe she could even convince herself that her stunning misfire had never even happened. Delight hadn't heard it, so — maybe it hadn't. Maybe she could even pretend that Jo had never been here at all, and then she wouldn't have to talk to Alfred about that whole thing, or try to begin to explain who Jo Smith was to Delight.

She was watching the fire and perched on the edge of his couch when they came out of the kitchen. "Hi," Zelda said; her stomach growled now that dinner was an actual option. "Thanks for doing the &mdash stuff."

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