only been impressed with me since I went to Oxford. My brother's fifteen years older than I, and he and Simon are quite keen on going hunting. Not my thing, I'm afraid.” She smiled at him, and Sam tried to pretend he didn't notice how beautiful she was as she uncrossed her legs again. There was something very unsettling about her, and he was wondering if it was going to be a good idea to have her around the office. Simon was hoping to have her work with him for a year, and then she wanted to go back to England, and go to law school. And in some odd ways, she reminded Sam a little bit of Alex. She had the same fire, the same bright, alive look she had had when he met her.
“Do you like it here? In New York, I mean. I suppose it's not terribly different from London.”
Big cities were fun and busy, and alive. Like Daphne. “I like it very much, though I don't know anyone, except Simon. He's taken me to some clubs, and he's dear about letting me tag along. I suppose it's a great bore for him, but he's very patient.”
“I'm sure it's not a bore for him at all, he must love it.”
“Well, he's very kind. And so are you. Thank you very much for letting me be here.”
“I'm sure you'll be an asset to the firm,” he said formally, they exchanged a smile, and he watched her admiringly as she left his office.
Five o'clock came all too soon, and then six, and he couldn't decide whether to go home to Annabelle, or back to the hospital to see Alex. He didn't want to call and wake her, and the doctor had said she probably wouldn't even be in her room until seven. So he went home first to see Annabelle, ate dinner sitting next to her, watching television, and then put her to bed with a story. Carmen asked if he'd heard from Mrs. Parker, and Annabelle complained that Mommy hadn't called her. And Sam explained that she was probably in meetings all day, and couldn't call them, but he looked unusually somber as he said it. And Carmen was watching him with a look of suspicion. She just knew something was wrong. She had noticed the small tote bag too, and the absence of a real suitcase.
At eight o'clock he changed into jeans, and seemed to hesitate before going back to the hospital. He knew he had to go, but suddenly he didn't want to see Alex. She would be woozy and sick, and probably in a lot of pain, in spite of what the surgeon had said about “ductal” tumors being less painful. They had lopped off her breast after all, how good could that feel? It made him feel sick again as he thought of facing her. Who was going to give her the news? Or would she just know? Could she feel it?
He looked grim when he got to the hospital, and went up to the small, ugly blue room, and much to his chagrin, she was wide awake when he saw her. She was lying in bed, with an IV pole next to her, and an elderly nurse reading a magazine in the light of the single lamp that was lit in the room. Alex was crying softly and staring at the ceiling. But he wasn't sure if she was in pain or if she knew about her breast, and he could hardly ask her.
The nurse looked up as he came in, and Alex explained that he was her husband, and then the nurse nodded and left the room as discreetly as she could, and took her magazine with her. She said she'd be just outside in the hallway.
Sam walked slowly to her bedside, and stood looking down at her. She looked as beautiful as ever, but very tired and pale, a little the way she had looked right after Annabelle was born, but this time she looked anything but happy. He took her right hand in his own, and he could see that her left side and her whole upper body were heavily bandaged.
“Hi, kiddo, how are you?” He looked uncomfortable, and she did nothing to hide her tears. There was reproach in her eyes when they met his.
“Why weren't you here when I got back to the room?” She couldn't have been there long. They had said around seven.
“They told me you