It was hard to make out anything more than a dark outline behind the curtains, but Gretchen saw Shaughnessy in her mind, moving through the rooms, putting some old record on the ancient vinyl player he kept next to his portable bar. Pouring himself something brown and medium priced because that was a splurge for the man. One time, Gretchen had bought him high-end Scotch for Christmas, and she thought it was the closest he’d come to ever crying in her presence.
