“There’s more,” she said.

“More what? More lunch? More garbage? What are you talking about?”

“More to the story,” she said. “You know that bit about the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth? Well, I think you’re telling the truth, and I think you’re telling nothing but the truth, but I don’t think you’re telling the whole truth.”

“You don’t, huh?”

“No,” she said, “I don’t. Maybe I should just shut up and go along for the ride, because you know what they say about looking gift whores in the mouth.”

“What do they say?”

“They say not to. But I can’t help it, Bern. You picked out Cuttleford House as a special treat for Lettice. Once she took herself out of the picture, why would you want to go there?”

“I told you-”

“I know what you told me, but if you need a vacation why wouldn’t you want to take it somewhere else? I just can’t keep from feeling that you’ve got a hidden agenda.”

“A hidden agenda,” I said.

“If I’m wrong,” she said, “just tell me once and for all, and I’ll shut up about it, I promise.”

“I wouldn’t say hidden,” I said. “I wouldn’t call it an agenda.”

“But there’s something, isn’t there, Bern?”

I sighed, nodded. “There’s something.”

“I knew it.”

“Or maybe there’s nothing, but there’s the possibility of something. At least there was something. I’m fairly certain of that, but I don’t know if there still is. Something, I mean.”

“ Bern -”

“Although there’d still be something, wouldn’t there? But instead of being there, it could be somewhere. Somewhere else, I mean.”

“Bernie, those are real words you’re using, and you’re making whole sentences out of them, but-”