The Cinderella Act. Jennifer Lewis

hands trembled, clattering the two plates she carried. Was she being ousted from the task of looking for the cup? She realized with a pang of disappointment that she’d come to feel quite proprietary about the attic and its trove of discarded treasures.

      Which was silly. None of them were hers and they never would be. That blue dress hung in the closet a few yards away from where she stood, in the spare bedroom. For a few brief moments it had felt like hers, like she was meant to wear it. In retrospect it had been wearing her, and had turned her—briefly—into another person. Maybe it was better that she stay away from all this odd old stuff with mysterious powers.

      She carried the plates into the kitchen, scraped them and put them in the dishwasher. Her ears were pricked for the sound of Sinclair’s voice, but all she heard was the chatter of the two women.

      He doesn’t care about you. It was a momentary lapse of judgment. An act of madness.

      “Annie.” His voice right behind her made her jump. She wheeled around and saw him standing, larger than life, in the kitchen. “We need to talk.”

      She gulped. “Yes.”

      “Tomorrow.” His eyes narrowed. Stress had carved a line between his brows. “When we can be alone.”

      She nodded, heart pounding. Sinclair turned and strode from the room, his powerful shoulders hunched slightly inside his starched shirt.

      He’d been so taciturn tonight, barely joining the conversation. Was he thinking about her? She rinsed the cutlery and put it into the dishwasher. For a while she thought he’d simply pretend nothing had happened. He made no contact with her after they’d made love and two weeks had gone by. She’d almost started to believe she imagined the whole, crazy thing.

      But now he wanted to be alone with her. Wanted to talk to her. Her blood pumped harder. Worst-case scenario, he wanted to fire her. Best-case scenario?

      She chewed her lip.

      “Annie, darling, could you bring more Chablis?”

      She wiped her hands on a towel and headed for the wine cellar.