"No." She plucked at a speck of lint on her skirt. "It just sounds so southern."
He chuckled, wondering if she realized she made the South sound like another planet. "Honey, we are southern. Suellen, Charlotte as in Bronte, Meg from Little Women."
"And Byron, as in Lord."
"Exactly."
"You don't have the poetic pallor or the clubfoot, but you do sort of have the dreamy good looks."
"Flattery." He kissed her lightly in response. "I guess you're feeling better."
"I guess I am."
"So." He draped an arm over her shoulders. "How was your day?"
With a weak laugh, she turned her face, nuzzled it against the curve of his neck. "It sucked. It really, really sucked."
"Want to talk about it?"
"Maybe." It wasn't really so hard to lean against a strong shoulder, she decided, if she just concentrated. "I should call Laura. I told her I would."
"Josh will tell her you're with me. She won't worry."
"She'll worry whether I call or not Laura worries about everyone." Kate let the silence soothe a moment, then began with Kusack's appearance at the shop.
Byron didn't interrupt, but listened, assessed, and considered.
"I don't think he believed me. The way he kept watching me, with this kind of cat patience, you know? When he mentioned my father, my brain just froze up. I knew I should have been prepared for it Right from the start of this I knew that would be the worst and I should have been prepared. But I wasn't"
"It hurt you," Byron murmured. "More than any of the rest."
"Yes." She reached back, gripped his hand, baffled and relieved that he would understand so easily. "It hurt that this stranger, this cop, should damage the man I'm trying to remember. The one who used to spin ridiculous dreams for me, who I'm trying to believe only wanted the best for me. And
I can't defend him, Byron, because what he did is against everything I believe in."
"That doesn't mean you didn't love your father and aren't entitled to remember the best parts of him."
"I'm working on that," she murmured. "The problem is I have to stay focused on what's happening now. It's harder than I imagined. When Kusack brought out the forms, I couldn't explain why they both had my signature. But Josh seemed to think it went well, especially that business with the security code."
"Electronic thievery rolled in right along with the microchip. You said the siphoning off started about a year and a half ago. Who's had access to your computer during that time period?"
"Dozens of people." Isn't that why it's all so hopeless? she thought. "There's not a big turnover at Bittle. It's a good firm."
"So who needs money, who's smart, and who would point the finger at you?"
"Who doesn't need money?" she countered, irritated because her mind was refusing to travel a logical path. "Bittle hires smart, and I don't know anyone in the firm who has it in for me personally."
"Maybe it wasn't personal so much as convenient. A cautious amount of money," he murmured. "Like a test—or a way to offset small, annoying debts. And the timing, Kate, haven't you considered the timing?"
"I can't follow you."
"Why now, why you? Is it just a coincidence that you should find out about your father at essentially the same time this skimming was noticed?"
"What else could it be?"
"Maybe someone else found out and used it."
"I didn't tell anyone."