George was in the kitchen when the doorbell rang. Zoe was upstairs. Rex got there first, positioning himself at the end of the hallway and going still in the way that wasn’t quite a growl yet.
George opened the door. The man on the step was around forty, sandy-haired, with the careful stillness of someone who had thought a great deal about this moment. He said he was looking for Zoe. He gave her name with a familiarity that George immediately disliked. He said his name was Marcus and that he was an old friend.
George looked at the man. Rex made a sound that was lower and more deliberate than a bark. “She’s not available,” George said. “Can I take a message?” Marcus said he’d prefer to speak to her directly. He was pleasant— smiling, even—but he didn’t move from the step. He said, “I’ll let her know you came by,” and began to close the door. Marcus put his hand against it.