He did not speak much to her beyond what was necessary. A “good morning,” a brief instruction, a quiet “thank you” when she set down his meals. But it was not unfriendly silence. It was simply the silence of a man who had lived alone for a long time and had grown used to the texture of his own company.
Rebecca was comfortable with that. She had her own quiet, after all.
But occasionally, just occasionally, she would look up from her work and find him watching her from across the room, not in a strange way, more like the way a person looks when something has snagged gently on a thought and they have not yet worked out what the thought is.
Each time it happened, he would look away immediately, and so would she.
Neither of them mentioned it.
It was on a Thursday morning in the second week that it happened.
Rebecca was cleaning the study. Mr. Caleb had gone out, one of the rare mornings when he had an early meeting at the office, and the house was entirely quiet in the peaceful way it only ever was when he was not in it.