That afternoon, Debra waited for Erica's update.
Clutching her phone. She anxiously paced back and forth in the second-floor hallway.
"Miss Frazier, you okay?" a maid asked, noticing her restless circling.
"Nothing. Just stretching my legs," Debra fibbed.
"If you want to stretch, try the garden. Mr. Andrew Potter is not coming home for dinner tonight. Eat whenever you're hungry. I'll have the kitchen whip up whatever you like," the maid said.
"Not coming home? Is he at some business thing?" Debra asked.
Andrew rarely handled social events himself. His team usually covered those. It was rare for him to miss dinner.
"I'm not sure. I'll get the kitchen started," the maid said, dodging the question.
Debra's suspicion grew. Something was up.
She crept downstairs. In the kitchen, two maids prepped dinner, chatting.
"Heard Mr. Andrew Potter is meeting Miss Howell tonight. They haven't seen each other since college, right?"
"Miss Howell had a huge crush on him back then. Did they ev
