Rain had blown in during the night at the precise angle required to set the window leaking. I got up, mopped the sill with a towel, and set out a small pot I kept behind my armoire for just such emergencies. I worried about black mold growing in the wall cavity and resolved to re-caulk the window for the umpteenth time. I made toast and a double cappuccino and headed for the study where I logged on to my laptop and checked my e-mail. After perusing the online New York Times I leaned back in my swivel chair, put the heels of my hands on my forehead and pushed hard, as if the physical pressure would relieve the anxiety I felt about Claire. No luck. It was too early to call Harrelson at Well Spring, and my head felt like it was going to explode. Archie was in the corner watching me like a hawk for signs of a morning run or at least a trip down to get the paper. I stood up and stretched, whereupon he shot to his feet. Aussies need a job, and it was Arch’s job to run me.
