“A girl wants her own hair and face products,” Peabody pointed out. “Maybe your makeup, some comfortable clothes. Those are nice pajamas.”
“Jilly—one of the nurses? She got them for me. She said they’d just add the cost onto the bill. I…” Her eyes filled. “I don’t know how to pay the bill. There’s insurance, but I … I don’t know how it works, or what I would owe over that. I talked to Del—Dr. Nobel—and he said not to worry about it yet, and that when I was ready I should talk to the lawyer, the one in charge of my husband’s—Anthony’s estate.”
“That sounds sensible. As a matter of fact, I was planning to contact the lawyer today, just to discuss some details.”
Relief visibly flooded her face. “Oh, then maybe you could ask him what I should do. How to pay the hospital, and for a hotel if I have to leave.”
“I’ll talk to him. That’s Randall Wythe, right?”
“I think—yes. I signed papers before my husband and I were married. The legal papers, but after that my husband handled all the legal business.”
“Okay. Daphne, you know there are two other couples who were attacked, who’ve been through what you’re going through.”
Daphne pressed her lips together, nodded.
“You met them. You worked with one of them on a committee. And met the other at an event once.”
“I did?”
“Rosa Patrick.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t remember. I can’t remember anyone with that name. I’m terrible at remembering things.” Her breath began to shorten. “I have to try harder. It’s rude and embarrassing to forget someone’s name.”
“No, it’s not,” Eve said. Daphne just blinked at her. “She wasn’t married when you worked together. So she was Rosa Hernandez.”
“Oh, of course. Yes, I remember. I remember Rosa. She was so smart and very patient. I make so many mistakes, but she—”
“Really? Because Rosa told me she thought you were great at the work.”
“Oh, she was just being kind.”
“No, she wasn’t. She said she’d hoped to work with you again, and had even asked about you when it was time to put together that event again.”
“She did?”
“Yeah. She was very clear on that.”
“I thought…”
“What?”
“Nothing. Nothing.” Lowering her eyes, Daphne stared at her hands. “I’m sorry we lost touch.”
“She feels the same about you. The other woman. Lori Brinkman. You didn’t exchange names, so you won’t remember her that way. You just happened to run into her at an event. Last spring, the Celebrate Art Gala. Do you remember attending that?”
“Yes. I was to wear the white Delaney gown with the black-and-white Rachel Carroll evening shoes and the Joquin Foster evening bag—the black one with the pearl clasp.”
“That’s funny. The woman I’m talking about? She’s terrible with dates and times, but she never forgets an outfit. You sure remember yours, too.”
“It’s important to dress appropriately, to present the correct image—and not to repeat in the same venue.”
“Right. You and Lori Brinkman were in the ladies’ lounge together at the same time. You’d been crying.”
“I—I don’t remember that.” Daphne’s gaze cut away. “She may be mistaken.”
“You told her, when she asked, you had a headache.”
“Oh. I sometimes get headaches. It’s a weakness.”
“I get headaches. Anybody calls me weak, I’ll kick their ass. But that’s just me.”
“I…” It seemed to hit her, all at once. “They were attacked, like me? Rosa was hurt, like me?”
“Rosa was the first.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” Her eyes, a striking green against her tawny skin, shimmered. “I liked her so much. She’s so smart and funny and kind. Is she—is she—”
“I saw her today. She’s holding her own. It’s been hard, you know it’s hard. But she’s going to counseling, and she’s talking to Lori. It’s helping them to talk to each other. They’d both like to see you, talk to you.”
“Oh. Oh, I don’t know. I don’t know if I can, if I should.” As she spoke, her voice hitching, she looked all around the room.
“He’s not here to tell you what to do, what not to do.”
Daphne’s hands stopped pulling at her pajama top, clutched together in her lap. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“We’ll leave that for now. What I’m saying is: Both these women understand, and they want to reach out. Because it could help you, and because it helps them. Peabody’s going to leave their contact information, and you can decide if and when.”
“Are they ashamed?” Daphne whispered.
“Not anymore, because they know they didn’t do anything to be ashamed of. They survived, Daphne, like you did. This man— Look at me, okay? Look here. Anyone who preys on someone they see as weaker, who hurts them, violates them, traps them— Are you hearing me?”
Eve waited until Daphne nodded.
“Anyone who deliberately makes someone else feel less, feel helpless? That person is a coward. They’re the weak ones, the shameful ones. What’s not weak, not shameful, is taking help that’s offered. You said Rosa is smart and funny and kind. Lori struck me as the same. We can all use the smart, funny, and kind. So think about it.