I glanced at the face. Two-thirty-one.
I rose from the table and went to the kitchen, where I measured water and coffee grounds into the percolator. Doctor Paul would need coffee when he woke up, and lots of it.
Two-thirty-one. I’d known the good doctor for two hours and thirty-nine minutes, and he’d been asleep for most of it. I plugged the percolator into the wall socket and opened the refrigerator. Butter, cheese. There must be some bread in the breadbox.
Doctor Paul would be hungry, too.
? ? ?
AH, the scent of brewing coffee. It bolts a man from peaceful slumber faster than the words Darling, I’m pregnant.
I watched his big blue eyes blink awake. I savored the astonished little jerk of his big blue body. “Hello, Doctor,” I said. “Welcome to heaven.”
He looked at me, and his head relaxed against the pillow. “You again.”
“I made you grilled cheese and tomato soup. And coffee.”
“You didn’t.”
“You carried my parcel. It was the least I could do.”
He smiled and sat up, all blinky and tousley and shaky-heady. “I don’t know how I fell asleep.”
“It seems pretty straightforward to me. You were exhausted. You made the mistake of lowering your poor overworked backside onto my unconscionably comfortable sofa. Voilà. Have some coffee.”
He accepted the cup and took a sip. Eyelids down. “I think I’m in love with you.”
“Aw, you big lug. Wait until you taste my grilled cheese.”
Another sip. “I’d love to taste your grilled cheese.”
Well, well.
I rose to my feet and went to the kitchen, where Doctor Paul’s sandwich sat in the oven, keeping warm. When I returned, his eyes lifted hopefully.
I handed him the plate. “So tell me about yourself, Doctor Paul.”
“I do have a last name, if you’d care to hear it.”
“But, Doctor, we hardly know each other. I’m not sure I’m ready to be on a last-name basis with you.”
“It’s Salisbury. Paul Salisbury.”
“You’ll always be Doctor Paul to me. Now eat your sandwich like a good boy.”
He smiled and tore away a bite. I perched myself at the edge of the armchair, such as it was, and watched him eat. I was still wearing my frilly white apron, and I smoothed it down my front like any old housewife. “Well?”
“I do believe this is the best grilled cheese I’ve ever had.”
“It’s my specialty.”
He nodded at the suitcase. “Haven’t you opened it yet?”
“Oh, that. You’ll never guess. It belonged to my secret great-aunt Violet, who murdered her husband and ran off with her lover, and the damned thing is, of course, locked tight as an oyster with a lovely fat pearl inside.”
Doctor Paul’s sandwich paused at his mouth. “You’re serious?”
“In this case, I am.”
He enclosed a ruminative mouthful of grilled cheese. “I hope you don’t mind my asking whether this sort of behavior runs in the family?”
“My behavior, or hers?”
“Both.”
I settled back in my armchair and twiddled my thoughtful thumbs. “Well. I can’t say the Schuylers are the most virtuous of human beings, though we do put on a good show for outsiders. Still and all, outright psychopathy is generally frowned upon.”
“I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear it.”
“That being said, and as a general note of caution, psychopaths do make the best liars.” I clapped my hands. “But enough about little old me! Let’s turn our attention to the alluring Dr. Paul Salisbury, his life and career, and, most important, when he’s due back at his hospital.”
Doctor Paul set his empty plate on the sofa cushion next to him, rested his elbows on his knees, and leaned forward. His eyes took on that darker shade again, or maybe it was the sudden rush of blood to my head, distorting my vision. “Midnight.”
I lost my breath.
“I’m supposed to be sleeping right now. I was supposed to return to the hospital from the post office, change clothes, and go back to my apartment to sleep.”
“Where’s your apartment?”
“Upper East Side.”
“My condolences.”
“Thanks. I should have found a place closer to the hospital.”
I looked at the clock. “You’ve lost hours already.”
“I wouldn’t say that.”
I untangled my legs and rose to fetch the tomato soup. “I hope you don’t mind the mug. We don’t seem to have any bowls yet.”
“Whatever you have is fine.” He took the mug with a smile of thanks. Oh, the smile of him, as wide and trusting as if the world were empty of sin. “Wonderful, in fact. Sit here.” He whisked away the plate and patted the sofa cushion next to him.