Chapter 28

My inner turmoil kept me awake for a while, but ultimately sleep came. I slept as firmly and soundly as I usually did, and when my eyes finally opened it was a surprising 7:30. And, I quickly realized, Asmedogh hadn't found need to wake me in the night. Was he even still here? I looked around and yes, he was, sitting at the foot of my bed.

At least there was one hurdle surmounted. Knowing Camilla would be, by her usual schedule, still sleeping for at least another couple of hours, likely longer, I took my time about showering, shaving and dressing, and then headed downstairs for coffee. There was clear evidence that she'd acquired her midnight—well, 3:00 a.m. or so, she'd said—snack, a wineglass and a plate with the remains of a salad, but evidently she'd seen no need for more precipitate action. The windows, I found, were still unlatched.

I got breakfast for Asmedogh, drank my coffee slowly, toasted a bagel when I was ready, and then faced the same dilemma I had yesterday: warming up wasn't possible, and my routine was thrown off. Well, I was resourceful. For a while I tried to concentrate on a book I'd bought and hadn't yet read, but wisps of concern about what would happen when Camilla at last awoke kept intruding and I gave it up, just turning on my rarely-used TV to check the news.

It turned out to be a long morning. TV news flips over every half hour, so it was either watch reruns of what I'd already seen or find another channel, and I was running out of channels. Ten o'clock came and went, 10:30, and still no sounds from upstairs. But I knew she was still there, or at least her car was out front and I doubted she'd walked away. Finally about quarter before eleven I heard stirring, then the shower ran; she was up.

I was too edgy to start my warm-up right away. Belatedly I remembered to go out to the kitchen and turn on the coffee-maker so she'd have a fresh cup when she was ready. This time, though, it took a bit longer than the day before, and when she came down she was dressed, jeans again and some sort of silky shirt.

"Good morning, Nick," she said, as cheerily as ever. To my considerable astonishment she walked over and bestowed a brief but still welcome kiss on me before taking up her coffee.

"Well, good morning," I replied; if we were starting off well again, far be it from me to disturb that. I grinned. "What's left of it, anyway."

"Yes, I'm awfully late, aren't I?" she acknowledged unapologetically. "Even for me. Sorry, I had kind of a long night for a while, as you can maybe imagine. Do me another bagel? Same way?"

She was continuing as I got out the bagel and pushed it down for its first go-round in the toaster. "But I finally sorted it out, and then I slept like a baby. Just late, sorry again."

"You sorted it out?" Even to my ears it sounded pretty stupid.

"Mmm-hmm. Look, we're friends, aren't we, you and I?"

It flummoxed me. "Well, yeah," I fumbled. "I mean, at least I'm yours, and I hope—"