An oak border surrounded four rows of white ceramic tiles. She kept two chairs at its long sides, pushed in. The table occupied the space at the far end of the kitchen in front of the French doors that led out to the patio, as did most of the kitchen tables in Casa cottages. In the center of the table sat her cell phone. She didn’t do centerpieces or place mats. The phone was the only object on the table. She walked around the table again and again, taking deep breaths, looking at the phone. Anyone peeking through the window would think her behavior bizarre. But for her it was protocol, her method for preparing herself, each and every time, to make the Phone Call. Which, given the necessary expended energy, explained why she did not make the Phone Call very often. Sam glanced around her old-fashioned beach cottage. She liked her home. It was one of four Casa bungalows that had two bedrooms rather than only one. The layouts were basically the same with the living room across the front, the kitchen down one side, a short hallway at the other side that bedrooms and bath opened onto.
