Christina nodded and sat up, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Somehow her feet had been encased in warm hospital booties.

“What the dickens happened?” Annette asked.

“I guess the water pipe broke,” Christina said. “It leads out to the restrooms and restaurant at the end of the wharf and I was walking there…” Because she knew Annette, because she knew Annette was a good, sympathetic woman, Christina let herself go. “Oh, Annette, I was so frightened! I didn’t know what happened. It was like a monster had smashed up from the water through the wharf, or maybe the end of the world, or a bomb, I couldn’t understand, it all happened so fast.”

Annette put her arms around Christina and hugged her. “Poor girl,” she said, patting Christina’s back. “How scary. But you’re all right. You’ve had a shock, sweetheart, but you’ll be just fine.” Stepping away, she said, “You fell on your back, right? Can you stand up so we can get your wet clothes off and put you in a warm robe?”

Holding on to Annette’s arms, Christina slid down to the floor. When she tried to pull the sleeve of her cashmere sweater off, it stuck to her skin.

“Here, dear, let me do it. You just relax.” Annette chattered away as she undressed Christina. “Nice cashmere sweater, and you know the good thing about wool is it stays warm even when it’s wet. Okay, now put your arms out, I’m slipping a johnny on you. Turn around, I’ll tie it in the back. And bless my soul! You landed right on your tailbone, my dear. You’ve got a lovely little bump there. We’ll lie you on your side and I’ll put an ice pack next to it.”

“Oh, not an ice pack!” Christina begged.

Annette laughed. “All right, my darling, no ice pack until you are nice and cozy warm. Now hold out your arms, I’m putting a robe on you, and then we’ll get you back in bed and under the covers and tucked up snug.”

Christina held out her arms. She felt like a child with her mother dressing her, and it was a comforting sensation.

“Now what shall we do about your lovely fur hat?” Annette asked.

“It’s not my hat!” Christina cried.

“If you say so, Christina, but it’s on your head. Shall we take it off? I know it’s giving you warmth, but I’d bet your hair is wet under there. We need to wrap your hair in towels.”

Christina lifted her arms and removed the Cossack hat—the dark fur was silky in her hands. “Do you think it’s mink?” she asked Annette.

Annette examined the hat, turning it this way and that. “No, it’s not mink, it’s faux fur. It says so on the label right here.”