”“Yes, thanks. I’ve been sipping on orange juice while I passed the time.”“Oh, I’m just damn thirsty, and need to skull something. Anythin.... I won’t be a tick.”“Sure,” said Belinda as Trish lifted the half-full bottle of orange juice out from the fridge, held it in her hand for quite a long moment, then apparently having a change of mind, returned it to its place. She then reached in for the spring-water, poured herself almost a full glass and quickly gulped it down, then returned the bottle to. . my husband doesn’t let me...” She stopped trying to verbalize for a moment and she forced herself to take a deep breath. “I don’t drink coffee. But I could make some.”“That would be lovely,” I told her behind my brightest smile. “Please, lead the way.”Casting frequent glances over her shoulder, she walked the length of a short entryway, through a huge living room with a vaulted ceiling, and into a bright kitchen. She filled the reservoir on a single-serving coffee maker. “We have all these. More

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