Sam’s footfall on the stairs. Strange that she knew his step already. He reached the door and knocked and pushed it open, then froze at the sight of the three women around her.
“I’m getting a ’do,” Maggie said.
“Ah. I see. Do you want to take a shower? And then we’ll have breakfast.”
Of course, she thought, another meal. “Does someone else need to use the bathroom?”
“Not now. They’re Chinese. They bathe at night. You slept through it.”
The sisters got up and trickled out, sly, smiling, as if now was the time for Maggie and Sam to be alone.
“They like you,” he said. “They told me so.”
“They think we’re together.”
“No,” he said. “I told them we’re just friends.”
“Well, I’m sorry. I took your room.”
“Not in the end,” he said.
She stared, suddenly aware that this was a moment that needed to be broken. “Okay,” she said, “let me wash. I’ll be quick. I’ll come right down.” And he turned quickly and left.
Breakfast was congee, rice porridge with shreds of a briny, pleasingly marine-flavored waterweed and crunchy, salty peanuts. Hard-boiled eggs, pickles, and fluffy steamed buns flecked with scallion surrounded the pot. Two kinds of tea were poured, Dragon Well green, which was Hangzhou’s local specialty, and a light, flowerscented oolong that Sam said was from Fujian. The women sat around her, smiling and laughing. They gave her occasional little pats and presses of affection. He’s a good man, their looks seemed to say. Take care of him. They misunderstood, of course. They still thought she was his woman. Even the patriarch sent her an indulgent, welcoming smile. She caught Sam’s eye. He shrugged, as if to say he sensed it, but what could he do? Actually she didn’t mind; she liked it. She liked the feeling she had when she was among them.
But soon Sam had to say goodbye. They needed to catch a train in time to make their flight. He embraced everyone for a long time and longest of all his uncle. Maggie embraced them too, pressing her cheek to each of theirs in turn.
They rode down in Songling’s car, with Songzhao in the front passenger seat and Maggie and Sam behind, comfortable, leaning back side by side, easy in the green curves of bamboo light. They came to the lake, with its boats and its tree-shaded serenity, and they curled around it for a while until they reached the hotel. The car idled in the big, looping driveway while she ran up and retrieved her bag, rode the elevator down to the lobby, and checked out. She had never used her room.
They turned away from the lake now and into the crowded streets. Traffic crawled between the tall commercial buildings. Songling and Songzhao were talking softly up front in Chinese. Sam was content, tired. His hair was pulled tightly back in his ponytail, but here in the bright daylight of the car she could see the silver strands weaving back from his temples. “What?” he said, looking at her.
“Nothing.”
“My gray hair.” He reached up and brushed a hand above his ears.
“How did you know I was looking at that?”
“How could I not know? I’m sitting right next to you.”
She nodded, but inside she was thinking no, that does not explain it. Because she had been sitting next to people all her life and most of them never had any idea what she was thinking. Even people she knew fairly well. He seemed to know, though, at least sometimes.
“Maggie,” he said, a bit tentative. “I wanted to say sorry about last night.”
“Sorry why?” she said. “I’m the one who fell asleep in your room.”
“I feel bad, though. I wanted to say something to you. I really did mean to spend the night in the hall.”
Songling and Songzhao were still talking in the front. Songling let out a little laugh and they went right on in Chinese.
“I like you,” Sam said. “I would never want to disrespect you. I went to sleep in the hall because I would never do that.”
Got to respect the widow, she thought with a flash of hurt. “I wasn’t offended,” she said.
“Because I would never do that kind of thing lightly,” he said. “Never did and never have. Well” — he made a small confessional cringe — “I can’t say never. But even though I’m clueless on almost everything, I have managed at least to figure this much out, by this age — that there is nothing casual about people being together that way.”
“It wasn’t like that,”