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Juliet. She wasn’t the confident, gracious socialite she had been last night. In fact, she looked a little green. Emmie wondered what was bothering this lost-looking wisp of a woman.
    “No, it’s not a problem,” she said. “Let me get my coat.”
    They chose a little café that was within walking distance of the office. Emmie ordered an iced tea, but Juliet ordered a gin and tonic. Emmie stared at it longingly. She raised her eyebrows at how efficiently Juliet sucked it down and asked for another before their flatbread pizzas were even close to arriving.
    Wilma was out searching for just the right dining room set for a client, so Emmie knew she had some time—and a good thing, too, as it didn’t look like Juliet was going to be ponying up the reason for asking her to lunch anytime soon. Juliet had been a master of small talk at her party the previous night, but her skill was failing her now—or she was too fixated on getting the last drops out of the bottom of the glass. As she poked at the lime wedge with her thin straw, Emmie debated whether it was better to fill the void with frivolous conversation or get right to the heart of the matter and ask her what she wanted—well, in a more polite way, of course.
    After spending a few moments watching Juliet rattle the ice around in her glass, Emmie took a breath. “Juliet—” she began, just as the woman across the table looked up and finally spoke.
    “Did you have a good time at the party?” she asked.
    “Yeah, it was nice—”
    “Look, I wanted to talk to you about something.”
    “I could kind of tell.”
    Juliet tried to smile. “Not a lot of people know this, but . . . I guess you should.”
    “Okay . . .” Emmie prompted.
    “I can trust you, I think—you seem like a really nice person.”
    “Thanks . . . ?”
    And suddenly Juliet got the rest out in a rush. “I need to explain about Graham and—and Kevin.”
    Juliet was flushed—whether it was because of the alcohol or nerves, Emmie wasn’t sure. But judging by how skittish Juliet was, Emmie could pretty much guess what she was going to say. And she really didn’t want to hear the gory details.
    “Juliet, you know, you don’t have to—it doesn’t matter—”
    “No, I need to explain. I mean . . . it’s complicated.”
    “Seems that way.”
    “Kevin doesn’t know . . . Nobody else knows. And I want to keep it that way. I wouldn’t bring it up at all,” Juliet went on, frowning at the tabletop, “but then Graham . . . he . . .”
    Emmie sat up a little straighter at Juliet’s suddenly annoyed tone. Graham what?
    “He just had to come into the foyer to meet you on Saturday, so now . . . now I need to ask you . . . Emmie, what I need to know is, can I count on you for this?”
    Out of the corner of her eye, Emmie saw the server slide their pizzas onto the table. He asked if they needed anything else, and Juliet reminded him that she was still waiting for her second drink. Once he was gone, Juliet prompted, “Emmie?”
    She jumped a little. “Right.”
    “Can I count on you for this?” she said again.
    “Uh,” she rasped, “sure. Yeah.”
    Juliet visibly relaxed. “Thank you,” she said. “I can’t tell you what this means to me. But you should know it’s not as bad as—”
    “Uh, you know . . .” Emmie blurted out, cutting her off. “I can’t . . . I . . .” The server returned with Juliet’s second gin and tonic, and Emmie looked up at him. “Can I get a box, please?” To Juliet, she said, “I have to go.”
    Juliet frowned prettily. “Again? Is it me, or—”
    Yes. It damn sure is you this time, Emmie thought, but she only said, “I’m so sorry. I hate to keep doing this to you, but I really do have to get back . . .”
    “Emmie, is it because of what I just—”
    “No! No, of course not. You can do whatever—I mean, it’s fine. I just have to go. Really.” She made an effort to smile at Juliet, who was looking a whole lot different in her eyes all of