Greta leaned one manicured hand against the doorframe, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of her nose.
"Alice," she purred, drawing out the name as though tasting it. "Ready for lunch?"
Alice stepped out, closing the door behind her. "Give me a second to lock up."
Greta's eyes flicked past her shoulder. "No Travis today?" she asked, voice dipping into that silky register.
"He's busy," Alice said, twisting the key until it clicked.
"Mm." Greta's smile curved. "Still the workaholic, I see. Does he ever take a break? For you, I mean?"
Alice glanced at her, expression unreadable. "We manage just fine."
"Because I remember…" Greta tilted her head, lips curling as if recalling a private joke. "He used to hate letting me out of his sight."
Alice smoothed her bag strap over her shoulder. "Times change."
Greta's laugh was low, deliberate. "Do they?"
"They do," Alice said, brushing past her toward the car. "Or some people just get left behind."
