“Hey,” I said, and then, for lack of anything better to say, I added, “Your hair’s uneven.”

Bette chuckled slightly. “Do you like it?”

“It’s nice.” I shifted awkwardly from foot to foot. “How’d you know where to find me?”

“I called Spencer and he gave me the address.”

“What do you want?” We both cringed at the blunt harshness of my words; I tried to soften the blow: “Do you want to come in?”

“Sure.”

I stepped back to allow her to enter. She was really good about leaning down and petting the dogs and they didn’t seem to bark at her as much as they usually bark at people. They’re such useless dogs, anyway; one’s a Shih Tzu and the other’s a Pekingese and they’re both extremely small and excitable. And annoying.

“Uh,” Bette said, reaching into her bag. “I was cleaning in the guest room and I noticed this had fallen behind the bed.” She pulled out the copy of 1984 I’d been reading, still bookmarked in the spot I’d bookmarked it in. “I guess you forgot it.”

“Thanks,” I said. I glanced at the cover and then tossed the book onto the kitchen counter. “It’s good, you ever read it?”

“High school,” she said, nodding. “I think.”

“Oh.” I watched her play with the dogs for a little while. “Did you come here to drop this off?”

“Yes.”

“You could’ve sent it in the mail.”

She straightened, lifting her shoulders in a graceful approximation of a shrug. “I was on my way back from a trip.”

“Where?”

“Um, just east.”

“Oh, okay.”

We looked at one another. I wasn’t sure if I really digged her hair. I wasn’t sure if I really digged her coming here, either.

“Kit got out of rehab.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. She called me.”

“I…” ***** me for being so nosy. And ***** her for making it seem like she didn’t mind telling me stuff about her personal life, even though I knew it was something she didn’t do with a lot of people. Oh, *****. Might as well ask. “Are you gonna see her?”