continue looking for a woman.
“We need to keep her busy,” Simon responded, looking out the window as they crossed the bridge into upper Manhattan. He hadn’t been there in a year, and hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it. He had grown up in Boston, while his father taught at Harvard, but he didn’t get there often either. He hardly ever left the school, and for the past three years, he’d been spending all his free time with Megan, lately in cheap motels. It depressed him to think about it. He suddenly realized the seamy life he had been living with her, while he waited for her to leave her husband. And he strongly suspected now that she never would. He was grateful for the opportunity to come to New York, and take a break. He was still thinking about her and how much he already missed her, while Blaise pulled up in front of their building. Simon was staring out the window, with a blank look, still thinking of Meg.
“We’re here,” Blaise said firmly, to catch his attention, and Salima stirred in the backseat, as the doorman began unloading theirbags. He recognized Salima immediately but had never seen the man before. They looked like a motley crew, entering the building a few minutes later with all of Salima’s things, as she held on to her mother’s arm for guidance, after Blaise asked the doorman to take the car to the garage. And without prodding, Blaise saw Simon tip the doorman, who tipped his hat to him. She was pleased he had thought of it himself. “Thank you,” she said to him, and Simon looked startled. To him, it had been the obvious thing to do. To Blaise, it was evidence that he had been well brought up and did the right thing. At least he knew how to tip. It was one thing less for her to think about, and he made himself useful. He carried all the bags into the apartment for them as Salima felt her way around, getting acclimated again. She was far less familiar and at ease here than she was at school—she didn’t come home often.
Blaise showed Simon to Salima’s room, so he could bring her bags in. There was hardly space for all of them in the small sunny room that was empty most of the time.
She pointed out her own suite then so he could carry her suitcase, and then she walked him into the kitchen and escorted him to one of the two tiny rooms behind it, the maids’ rooms they never used. Looking at his size, with his long legs, and the narrow bed, she suddenly realized how inadequate it was for him, but she had nothing else, except her own room and Salima’s.
“I’m sorry. I know this room is really small for you. We’re just not set up for guests.” And even less so for men, she almost added, but didn’t. But he looked perfectly content as he set down his two small bags and tossed his laptop case onto the bed. He never went anywhere without it.
“I must have been a monk in a past life. I don’t mind small spaces. My room at Caldwell isn’t much bigger than this,” he said with an easy smile, and she was relieved. At least he wasn’t demanding. She had expected him to have a fit when he saw the room. And now her housekeeper would have to sleep in the other room whenever Blaise went away, so there would be a woman in the house to help Salima bathe and dress.
“Thank you for being nice about it,” Blaise said quietly as they went back into the kitchen.
“Do you mind if I cook once in a while?” he asked as he looked around the fabulous kitchen. It was his dream come true.
“You don’t need to,” Blaise said, looking distracted. “My housekeeper leaves things we can heat up. I come home from work pretty late, and I don’t have time to cook. I usually just eat a salad when I’m alone, or don’t bother at all. And we can order in.” She wasn’t interested in his cooking. He was here to help Salima and nothing else. And he didn’t comment on what she said. He just nodded and followed her back to Salima’s room.
“Do you need some help hanging things up?”
“We need to keep her busy,” Simon responded, looking out the window as they crossed the bridge into upper Manhattan. He hadn’t been there in a year, and hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it. He had grown up in Boston, while his father taught at Harvard, but he didn’t get there often either. He hardly ever left the school, and for the past three years, he’d been spending all his free time with Megan, lately in cheap motels. It depressed him to think about it. He suddenly realized the seamy life he had been living with her, while he waited for her to leave her husband. And he strongly suspected now that she never would. He was grateful for the opportunity to come to New York, and take a break. He was still thinking about her and how much he already missed her, while Blaise pulled up in front of their building. Simon was staring out the window, with a blank look, still thinking of Meg.
“We’re here,” Blaise said firmly, to catch his attention, and Salima stirred in the backseat, as the doorman began unloading theirbags. He recognized Salima immediately but had never seen the man before. They looked like a motley crew, entering the building a few minutes later with all of Salima’s things, as she held on to her mother’s arm for guidance, after Blaise asked the doorman to take the car to the garage. And without prodding, Blaise saw Simon tip the doorman, who tipped his hat to him. She was pleased he had thought of it himself. “Thank you,” she said to him, and Simon looked startled. To him, it had been the obvious thing to do. To Blaise, it was evidence that he had been well brought up and did the right thing. At least he knew how to tip. It was one thing less for her to think about, and he made himself useful. He carried all the bags into the apartment for them as Salima felt her way around, getting acclimated again. She was far less familiar and at ease here than she was at school—she didn’t come home often.
Blaise showed Simon to Salima’s room, so he could bring her bags in. There was hardly space for all of them in the small sunny room that was empty most of the time.
She pointed out her own suite then so he could carry her suitcase, and then she walked him into the kitchen and escorted him to one of the two tiny rooms behind it, the maids’ rooms they never used. Looking at his size, with his long legs, and the narrow bed, she suddenly realized how inadequate it was for him, but she had nothing else, except her own room and Salima’s.
“I’m sorry. I know this room is really small for you. We’re just not set up for guests.” And even less so for men, she almost added, but didn’t. But he looked perfectly content as he set down his two small bags and tossed his laptop case onto the bed. He never went anywhere without it.
“I must have been a monk in a past life. I don’t mind small spaces. My room at Caldwell isn’t much bigger than this,” he said with an easy smile, and she was relieved. At least he wasn’t demanding. She had expected him to have a fit when he saw the room. And now her housekeeper would have to sleep in the other room whenever Blaise went away, so there would be a woman in the house to help Salima bathe and dress.
“Thank you for being nice about it,” Blaise said quietly as they went back into the kitchen.
“Do you mind if I cook once in a while?” he asked as he looked around the fabulous kitchen. It was his dream come true.
“You don’t need to,” Blaise said, looking distracted. “My housekeeper leaves things we can heat up. I come home from work pretty late, and I don’t have time to cook. I usually just eat a salad when I’m alone, or don’t bother at all. And we can order in.” She wasn’t interested in his cooking. He was here to help Salima and nothing else. And he didn’t comment on what she said. He just nodded and followed her back to Salima’s room.
“Do you need some help hanging things up?”
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