Lydia held his gaze.
"My sewing book?"
The smile vanished.
She saw it.
The immediate change.
The recognition.
Everett had not known for certain whether she possessed the records.
Now he did.
Lydia realized her mistake.
But she did not retreat.
Instead, she lifted her head.
"You'll speak to my attorney."
Everett laughed.
"Your attorney?"
Miss Mercer emerged from her office doorway.
"Yes, Mr. Bowman."
Everett turned.
Abigail stepped onto the boardwalk.
"Mine, as it happens."
She looked toward Lydia.
"Mrs. Bowman, would you care to come inside?"
Lydia nodded.
Everett's smile disappeared.
Gideon offered Lydia his arm.
She took it.
Then stopped.
She looked back at Everett.
For years, she had imagined what she might say if she ever saw him again.
The words had changed a hundred times.
Some were angry.
Some frightened.
Some desperate.
Now, with the cold Wyoming wind moving through the street, she found she needed only one sentence.
"You don't get to decide where I belong anymore."
Then she turned away.
And walked into the attorney's office.
Everett Bowman did not follow Lydia into the attorney's office.
That surprised her.
For years, she had believed that if she ever defied him openly, he would pursue her until she apologized.
Instead, he remained outside the hotel, staring after her with an expression she knew too well.
The calm fury behind the polished manners.
The promise that the conversation was not finished.
Lydia sat in Miss Mercer's office with her hands clasped so tightly that the knuckles had turned pale.
Gideon stood near the window.
Ruth remained beside the door.
Abigail locked the outer office and returned to her desk.
Then she looked at Lydia.
"Are you hurt?"
Lydia shook her head.
"No."
"Did he threaten you physically?"
"No."
"Did he attempt to touch you?"
"No."
Abigail nodded.
"Good. Tell me exactly what he said."
Lydia described the encounter.
She repeated Everett's words as accurately as she could.
She did not embellish.
She did not pretend she had been fearless.
She explained that he called her his wife, demanded the book, and told Gideon to control her.
Abigail wrote carefully.
Then she looked up.
"You recognized him without doubt?"
Lydia nodded.
"He is Everett Bowman."
"Not merely a resemblance?"
"No."
"Could you identify any distinctive features?"
Lydia hesitated.
Then nodded.
"He has a small white scar behind his left ear. From a childhood fall. His right little finger doesn't straighten completely."
Abigail wrote both details.
"And his voice?"
Lydia swallowed.
"I would know it anywhere."
The attorney nodded.
Then she looked toward Gideon.
"Did you hear him identify himself?"
"Yes."
"Did he respond when Mrs. Bowman addressed him as Everett?"