“The official part was as smooth as could be,” Alejo murmured, closing his arms around her. She could feel the steady lump-lump of his heart, a little faster than normal Of course he was stressed, too. He whispered into her hair, “She was quiet, mostly speaking French to the customs people. As soon as we got to the car, she clammed up. I tried a few questions, but all I got were monosyllables, and she never stopped texting. It was a very long drive.”
“To whom? Her mother?”
“Maybe? I’d be really surprised if she spent all this time texting Roxane, judging by what I heard on the phone the other day. On the other hand, maybe she’s taken one look at this new environment and decided that Mom wasn’t so bad.”
His head turned sharply, and Wendy put the duffel on the bed as Oriane appeared in the doorway. “Where is the WC?” she enunciated.
“This is your bathroom,” Wendy said, pointing to the door. “You can have it all to yourself.”
Oriane’s extended lashes lifted at that, and she almost smiled. “You say, it is mine?”
“All yours,” Wendy and Alejo said together, and exchanged quick smiles.
Oriane sped inside, shut the door, then opened it again, before Wendy could take a step. The girl grabbed the duffel, whisked it into the bathroom, shut the door again, and they heard the lock click.
Alejo raised his brows, and he and Wendy left.
“I suppose locking the bathroom is a girl thing?” he asked.
Wendy nodded. “I would too, among people I don’t know, in a strange house. Double that when I was young.”
He followed her to the kitchen and helped her put together a salad. Sam slipped into the kitchen, taking his chair with an air of question that caused Wendy to smile encouragingly at him. She knew better than to force him to speak before he was ready.
Oriane appeared then, bringing a distinct air of citrussy perfume, her face freshly made up with a formidable array of eyeliner and eyebrow colors as well as dark blue lipstick. To Wendy it suggested that Oriane was hiding behind a brave banner, much as she had when she was young.
Sam sneezed, his eyes watering.
Let that be something outside, Wendy breathed as she brought the food to the table. “Please serve yourself,” she said in her brightest voice.
Alejo complimented the dinner, Wendy thanked him, and the two of them toiled grimly at a conversation as Oriana toyed with her food. Wendy, looking down at her, noted what the thick makeup didn’t hide: the marks under Oriane’s eyes, betraying how tired she probably was.
Sam sneezed again, harder. His eyes were definitely watering. He was reacting to something in Oriane’s scent. What to do now?
Sam picked up his spoon, but he was having trouble breathing at the same time as he tried to eat, and gave a sudden, gigantic sneeze. It was so strong that his head jerked and his glasses landed with a plop in his curry. He picked them up, wiped ineffectually at the food-smear on the lenses, and turned woeful, fast-reddening eyes toward Wendy.
“Would you like to eat out on the patio?” Wendy said. “I’ll go with you.”
Oriane turned in her seat, and eyed Sam. “You,” she said. “You have the…the allergies?”
“I’m sorry,” Sam whispered.
Oriana blinked. “It is me, is it not so?”
Wendy held her breath. Was the girl going to run all the way back to LAX? Fly?
“I think so,” Sam’s whisper was barely audible, his shoulders up to his ears.
Oriane stuck her arm out, under Sam’s nose. “It is this one, eh?”
Sam’s eye blurred with tears and he sneezed three times.
“Ah! I am sorry, petit-gars.” Oriane sped back to her room. They heard the door slam.
Wendy was already out of her chair, opening the doors and windows. “Do you need your inhaler, Sam?”
Sam had pretty much outgrown the need, but they still kept it just in case. “No.”
Wendy hesitated, but Sam took a deep breath of the cool, fresh air, and the flush in his cheeks died down. He was recovering quickly.
