I sit on the sofa, hear the water being turned off, then the sound of the bathroom door opening. It’s kind of nice to come home and hear the evidence of another human being, but mildly irritating, too, as when someone you like calls just as you’re ready to sit down to a really good meal. I mean, do I want to hear the shower just now? Do I want to have to talk to someone else? Not really. I want to do my notes from today’s visits, and then call DeWitt’s doctor to let him know I’ll need to see him for at least another week or two. I can do that, of course; it’s just that I feel a sense of inhibition about it.

As I sit having a debate with myself over free movement in my own house, I hear Diann coming downstairs. And then she is standing in front of me wearing a long, white summer dress, barefoot, her hair wet, her face free of any make-up. She looks like an ad in a magazine. Frank leaps up and runs to her, sits on her feet.

“Frank,” I say.

“Oh no, he’s fine.” She scratches him behind his disloyal ears. “You’re so full of love,” she tells him. “Aren’t you?”

“A bit overeager.”

“It’s nice!” She squats down, hugs him, then comes to sit on the sofa beside me. Frank follows, lies beside her. Who buys the damn Snausages around here? I’m thinking.

“God,” Diann says. “I’m so glad it’s you! I thought you weren’t going to be home until later. I was in the shower and I heard someone come in, so I beat it right out of there.” She smiles. “You know how you never want to be in the shower when the murderer comes.”

“Better to be in the kitchen, making lasagna,” I say.

“Pardon?”

“A joke. Not a good one.”

“Oh.”

“I meant, you know, like it would make a difference where you were, if it were a murderer.”

“Oh! I see. That’s funny.”

“Well. No, it’s not.”

A moment, now. Each of us tight with the other.

And then she says, “I really want to thank you again for letting me stay here.”

“That’s okay. It’s fine.”

“I never got the chance to tell you last night; you left so fast.” Frank finally tears himself away from Diann and comes to lie down heavily beside me. I have an urge to smack him, but pet him instead. “Well, you know, I really had to get some things done. And I thought it might be nice for you and Chip to have some time alone.”

She nods. “It was.”

The phone rings, and with some relief I go to answer it.

“Hey,” Chip says.

“Oh, hi. Hold on; she’s right here.”