DIPTYCH At the baths, Fiona stood in the lobby and whyoed quietly for Beatrice, but she got no response. It was no wonder, what with the many hallways and chambers and the sound of rushing water everywhere, so she paid the fee and went in herself. She hurried through most of the rooms, finding no trace of Beanie. In the steam room she did linger for a moment, though—the moist heat was lovely, especially considering how bitterly cold it had gotten—and there, though Fiona didn’t know her from Adam, she sat down beside Maria. Harris’s Maria. The very same. Fiona watched the other woman’s toes stretch and curl, stretch and curl—slowly, unconsciously, happily. She tried the gesture herself—stretch, curl—and it did feel good. But then she recalled the urgency of her message for Beatrice and abruptly rose to go to the next room, a cool and shallow swimming pool. A single lap rinsed off the sweaty heat of the steam room, and then she passed quickly through the rest of the rooms.
