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"She has taken care of me since she was a little girl," Juliette added. "Whenever life got to be too much, Callie was there. Just like she's here now."
He was glad that Juliette didn't seem to blame Callie for her hospitalization.
"I'll always be here for you, Mom," Callie promised.
"Thank you for your time, Mrs. Corbyn."
"I think you should call me Juliette. After all, you were friends with Arthur, and now you're friends with my daughter."
"Juliette," he said with a nod.
"Mom, I'll call you later and I'll be by tomorrow morning." Callie gave her mom a hug and a kiss on the cheek and then they walked out of the room.
They didn't speak until they had left the hospital. Callie stopped on the sidewalk to take a deep breath. "I hate being in there. I can understand why my mother does, too."
"She seems to be doing well. Are you relieved?"
"Yes and no. I want her to be better, of course, but now she's going to be grilled. Do you still think she's a suspect?"
"I don't want to."
"That's not a good answer," she said, disappointment in her eyes.
"I'd like to go by the museum and speak to Victoria. Maybe she can give us her take on whatever conversation took place between Arthur and Marcus."
"That's a great idea. I'll go with you. Although, it's going to feel weird to be there again, to see the spot where Arthur died."
"I can do it on my own."
"No. I'm going with you, Flynn. I can handle myself. You don't have to worry. I won't fall apart."
"I'm not worried about that. I know how strong you are. I just think you might need a break. I'm sure you've had a rough day."
"Well, we could stop for ice cream on the way. We never did do that yesterday."
"We can do that."
Her sweet smile made him realize that he wanted to give her anything her heart desired. Savannah was right. Callie was a bigger conflict of interest than Arthur or his father. Because he wanted her to be happy. He was starting to want that more than just about anything.
* * *
They went to an ice cream parlor a few blocks from the museum, and Callie instantly felt better after she took her first bite of her double scoop of chocolate and mint chip ice cream. Flynn had, of course, felt compelled to outdo her, ordering three scoops with a mix of cookie dough, strawberry, and vanilla ice cream. Apparently, he was not a chocolate fan.
For the twenty minutes it took to eat their ice cream, she felt astonishingly happy. She didn't know what it was about Flynn, because even in the middle of everything that was going on, he could make her laugh. And she could bring out his sexy grin pretty easily, too. There were sparks going off at an amazing rate, but they somehow managed to keep the small table between them.
They didn't talk about the case at all, just chatted about food favorites and people-watched, as they ate their waffle cones down to the last bite.
And then their break was over. As they drove to the museum, the mood between them grew more somber, and when they parked in the lot and made their way through the front doors, her steps slowed.
She was actually a little surprised to see that the museum was open to the public only three days after Arthur's death, but there were people inside, some of them clustered in the grand hall, probably near the spot where Arthur had died.
It turned her stomach to think that some visitors might have come to the museum out of a macabre interest in Arthur's murder rather than their love of art.
Flynn didn't let her linger, his firm hand on the small of her back propelling her toward the hallway leading to the executive offices.
Elaine Monroe, Victoria Waltham's admin, sat at a desk in a small lobby area. Elaine was one of her mom's favorite people, because she was always willing to help anyone out, even if it wasn't technically her job. She was a widow in her late fifties and had been working at the museum for almost two years.
"Callie, hello. How are you?" Elaine asked.