master bath.â
The thought of all those little jets massaging away stress was almost enough to sell me on the place. However, it was the kitchen that sealed it. Bright and spacious, it had large east-facing windows that allowed the morning sun to spill across the kitchen table. I could picture myself sitting with a cup of coffee, reading the Washington Post .
But the best thing about the P Street house was that it didnât remind me of the townhouse where Dave and I lived for six years. The floor plans were entirely different. This house was larger, brighter, with more sunshine. It even had a small patio outside the dining room. Standing on the uneven moss-covered flagstones outside, I had breathed in the unmistakable scent of spring and traced the English ivy climbing the brick walls and chimney. Purple crocuses were already poking their heads from the soil, and daffodils ran riot in an overgrown flowerbed. The neglected garden, the shady little patio, the sunny kitchen, plus the Jacuzzi sealed it. I was hooked.
âThatâs great, Molly. Iâm glad you like it. I was hoping you would,â Karen said as the waiter cautiously approached.
Ordering a muffin and coffee, I noticed that Karen had barely touched her omelet. âIâm glad you didnât wait for me to order breakfast.â Pointing to her plate, I added, âDonât you like it?â
Karen shrugged, then sipped her coffee. âIâm not really hungry.â
I watched my niece tear her English muffin into pieces instead of eating it. Something was bothering Karen. I figured that was why sheâd left two messages on my cell phone last night, asking to have breakfast this morning.
Peter Brewsterâs remark about Karen having a âserious relationshipâ wiggled from the back of my mind, and I wondered if that was what was bothering her. I decided to roll the dice.
âKaren, you look preoccupied. More so than usual, I mean. Is there something on your mind?â
Karenâs shoulders relaxed, and a smile worked the corners of her mouth. âYou could always tell when something was bothering me, Molly. Even when I was a kid. Iâm so glad youâre back. Just sitting with you makes me feel better.â
âWow, I wish I had that effect on everyone,â I said as the waiter set my muffin and coffee before me. âNow that Iâm here, why donât we have breakfast every week. Iâve missed seeing you, too.â I took a large sip of the dark brew.
âI appreciate your meeting me this morning. I know youâre going to Karpinskyâs memorial service later.â
âAlong with most of Washington. I plan to stay in the background if I can.â
Now that Iâd been outed in the D.C. Dirt , I was bound to trip over more people from my past. Lots of government types wound up in Washington. Probably why the traffic was so bad. Old wonks were clogging the roads.
Karen stared out the window beside us that overlooked the Potomac River and harbor walk area of Georgetown below. Saturday sailors could motor right to the dock, then walk up the steps and into any number of outdoor cafes that lined the riverbank. From our window seat in the cozy café above, the Potomac glinted deep green with reflected sunlight. Another gorgeous spring day.
âYouâll be at the reception tonight, right?â
âOf course. How could I skip schmoozing with all those Midwesterners?â Karen said, as she returned from wherever she was.
âAre you still planning to come to Nan and Billâs with me afterwards?â
âAbsolutely. I donât want to miss Nanâs famous Sunday brunch.â
Now that she was more relaxed, I decided to probe. âSince you didnât answer my question the first time, Iâll ask it again. Whatâs bothering you, Karen? Thereâs something on your mind. Is it personal or business? You know you can tell me anything.â
She gave a