“It explains why sometimes at night, especially when it’s late and really quiet, I can hear you walking around inside your house, talking out loud—but I can never understand what you’re saying. Every time it happens I wonder, is he on the telephone, and who is he talking to at this hour?”

“Oh, God,” groaned Carter, his cheeks going red. “I’m so sorry. Am I really that loud?”

“Don’t worry,” she assured him. “Now that I know what you’ve been doing, it’s actually kind of cute. Though I was beginning to get worried that you were going schizoid.”

“No, I’m still relatively sane,” he assured her. “And I promise to be quiet tonight. I’m just going to sit on the couch later on and watch this Italian movie I just rented before I go to bed.”

“I wouldn’t have taken you for a foreign film afficionado.”

“I’m not,” said Carter with a shrug. “It’s just that my teacher says it’ll help me learn the language.”

“He’s right,” Sheila nodded. “What did you get?”

Carter showed her the DVD box.

“Hmm, Satyricon,” she read. “Do you like Fellini movies?”

“I couldn’t tell ya,” chuckled Carter. “I just picked out the first Italian movie I saw in the foreign film section.Why, have you seen this one?”

“Oh yes, I’ve seen this, and some of his other films,” she told him.

“How are they?”

“They’re . . . Felliniesque,” she replied after a moment’s search for the right word. Then, despite a rather noncommital expression that conveyed a distinct lack of conviction, she added, “You might like this one—maybe.”

“Can’t hurt to try, right?” said Carter.

“I suppose not,” she said.

Carter hesitated for a moment. He was eager to head inside and get changed for his workout, but at the same time he was once again enjoying talking to her.

“So, how go the plans for France?” he asked at last.

“Tres bien!” Sheila said brightly. “The only thing I’m waiting for is my passport. Can’t leave home without that. I was hoping it would be in today’s mail.”

“Your passport?” said Carter, getting a nervous stab in the pit of his stomach. “Do you need that to go to France?”

“Of course, silly,” she laughed. “And you’re going to need one, too, if you want to go to Italy. Haven’t you applied for yours yet?”

“It never even occurred to me,” Carter admitted, inwardly berating himself for having overlooked such a necessity. “I thought all I had to do was book my flight on Expedia and I’d be all set.”

Sheila clicked her tongue and shook her head.