I didn’t hear Maggie and was startled to look up and see her in the doorway, holding two mugs of tea. “Here, Jack Stone,” she said, holding out one of them. “Time for a break from your opus.” I took the mug, set it on the table next to the laptop. When I turned back she was leaning in the doorway, watching me. She said nothing, simply looked, and I waited, wondering what she was thinking. Then she spoke: “You’re a watcher, Jack Stone. A looker. That first evening you were here you were watching me. Even when you’re talking with Robbie I can feel your eyes on me, and I’m wondering what you’re looking at. What do you see in me that holds your attention, Jack Stone?” I wasn’t sure what to say. She had caught me by surprise. “Out with it,” she said. “You’re a big boy. What is it that you’re looking at so intently?” She still leaned against the door jamb, raising the mug of tea to her lips and sipping at it, but her eyes never left mine. “Am I that obvious?” I asked. From the book 'Robbie's Wife' by Russel Hill